Holy Cross
by carocali
Summary: A vivid vision brings Sam and Dean to Holy Cross, Iowa, where a vixen wants Sam, and wants Dean dead.
1. Chapter 1

Hi kids! How about that premiere! Kripke rocks my world! I'm so excited!

So, um, I had this idea for a humor fic. Really cracked myself up, but I needed a demon to 'move it along.' As I did my research, I found something completely different than what I was looking for, and this piece exploded.

It's not my typical fare - at all! It's more of an evil Harlequin novel, in fact. How else do we grow as writers if we don't challenge ourselves though, right? There were times I was uncomfortable writing it, but Sam seemed to enjoy it, so I continued. :D I hope that 'T' is a high enough rating, but with what we see nowadays, I'll probably be alright.

This was supposed to be a one shot, and well, it's not a oneshot. There are at least 6 chapters (most of which are written and being tweaked) and this will be part 1 of 2. I decided I have to continue the humor part of the piece in another story because it will not flow with the end of this one. That will be called "That which becomes a part of you" coming to a theatre near you. Haven't started it yet, but I wanted to give a heads up.

Thanks to Gem for kicking my butt and working on this and Rozzy for her always amazing support. Also to my buds at the Virtual Season who are busy plugging away on a schedule I cannot even fathom. Check it out at supernatural dot tv if you haven't already.

Oh, and I am not one to beg for reviews, because, well, I don't like blackmail in any form, but since this is a realm that is completely unfamiliar to me, any feedback - _especially _criticism - would be so incredibly appreciated! With that, on with the show.

Also, I haven't forgotten Cahokia, I just needed to get this out of my system.

:D

Caroline

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You sure this is it, Sammy?" Dean asked, pulling in front of a white ranch-style home - white picket fence included. The car idled with its guttural quality as he waited for his brother's response. What he received was a deep breath with a quick release. Dean looked to his right to see the gaze of his sibling staring back at him.

Sam nodded in reply.

The doors to the '67 classic creaked open as the hunters made their way to the trunk of the car, gathering weapons they deemed necessary for the 'main event.' Dean took his favorite Glock; Sam chose a handgun that fit in the small of his back nicely. He also decided on a blessed knife, dipped in holy water in case things turned a darker shade of gray.

Frankly he didn't know what to expect after the last few nights of visions. She warned Sam he would have to make a choice, and the curtain was about to pull back to reveal the stage.

It was just another pleasant day on Sunshine Street in the little town of Holy Cross, Iowa – population 339.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_A beautiful blonde bombshell with a body that begged for attention stood at the door. Her luscious lips, covered with a shade of plum lipstick, curved into a sweet smile that reeked of danger and held Sam at bay. A small part of him relished the sight of her; remembering the splendor of Jessica. He couldn't help his eyes from roaming up and down here perfect figure; knowing deep down he should turn and run. Before the thought even dare hit his synapses, she pulled him inside and closed the door, her hands running up his muscular physique not waiting for an invitation. _

_He kissed her - passionately, deeply - and lost himself in the scent of vanilla that encompassed her body. _What am I doing?_ The thought was there and gone. Sam was there and gone - his will chosen for him. His fingers ran gradually through her hair, feeling every fiber, as his mouth caressed her neck with his lips. She shuddered under the tickle and pressed herself deeper to his torso, wrapping her arms around his mid-section, groping at the strength she felt beneath her digits. The young man didn't mind as he continued his own adventures along her body._

_Sam raised his head for a moment to feel the sun glinting through the bay window at the front of the house. He glanced at their figures silhouetted on the parquet floor and continued back up to the woman's lips. The hunter did a quick double-take as he noted a strange outline of their shapes on the ground. Trying not to alter the movement of her hands now moving to his hips, he shifted his gaze slightly to get a better look. In the shadow, from her backside, he saw what looked like a furry tail. _

_Sam's brow furrowed; senses now on alert, crashing back to reality. He continued the charade, enjoying it more than he would admit, and tried to alleviate any suspicion on his part. A shiver went up his spine as she made her way dangerously down the side of his thigh. His hands countered, slowly finding their own means to the small of her back; persisting downward. He pulled her closer, feeling her tense with gratitude. Sam wanted his instincts to be wrong; wanting this moment to last forever, but he knew he had to know. He grabbed with the other hand, feeling his way, then he slyly turned his body to get a look at the shadow that splayed on the floor._

What the hell?

_She could feel the moment he knew, and her caressing became harsh and calculated. Nails scratched deeply into his thigh and up his sides, finding her way under the layers of clothing the man sported – always. Even in his dreams. He let out a startled cry at the discomfort. They had turned a corner. The momentum was unnatural and he knew he needed to get away. Sam pulled back with a slight pant as her eyes glowered with fire._

"_I thought you would be different. You _felt_ different," she said as she stepped back further, releasing him. She tossed her disheveled hair back from her face, deciding what her next move would be. _

_The hunter glanced once again at the shadow on the ground. There was no doubt she sported a tail. Sam cocked his head and motioned towards her, curiosity getting the best of him. "What are you?"_

_An evil smile tugged at her lips, choosing to continue this fairy tale further. She was still intrigued by the man; feeling the beacon of his inner self call to her. She had gone some lengths to find him and letting go because he knew her secret was not an option. "You will still come to me," she stated defiantly, moving within reach again. She paused for a moment, then swiftly touched the side of his head. Various images flickered through his mind; a red brick church with a white steeple, a white ranch home and the 'Welcome to Holy Cross, Iowa' sign._

_Sam blinked the invading images away, pushing her from him harshly. Gut reaction had him duck as fire shot from her angry mouth, missing him by inches. He rolled instinctively to the ground as her tail, once shrouded in shadow, sprouted full force, shooting fire at the young hunter. Sam continued to bob and weave, avoiding her fiery rage, but knew that he needed to get out of the house. Fire was never a good thing; especially around him. _

_Sam ran for the door to find it locked and slick. He pulled his hand from the knob to find it covered in blood. The hunter looked around with a puzzled expression for the source of the substance, only to discover it was him. His eyes made the journey down to his hips, making the connection to the crimson flow around him. Now that Sam was aware of the blood loss, a stream of lightheadedness crashed into his reality and pulled on the horizon. A handprint marked the wall as he tried to keep himself upright. _

_The woman regarded the tall stranger in front of her as he crawled down the wall and closer to the floor. Suddenly her features looked fox-like as she stalked her prey. "You can't get away that easy. My fun with you is just beginning." The blonde leaned and kissed the side of Sam's face. He watched as she turned into a fox and trotted out near the back of the house, leaving the young hunter to slip away into unconsciousness._

_-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o_

Dean knew the sounds well. His mind knew before he was even awake that Sam was in the throes of a nightmare. The protector cracked open a weary eye and leaned his head toward his brother. _Yup, he'll be shouting awake any…_

Sam jumped with a gasp, taking in deep breaths as he recovered from the latest night assault. He punched his fists into his eyes, trying to remember the details as they scurried away, causing stars to form under his eyelids. His breathing calmed as he remembered key points of the vision. Finally satisfied he had gathered everything he could for the moment, Sam removed his hands and blinked into the darkness.

Above him stood Dean.

"Jesus, Dean! You scared the shit out of me!"

Taking that as his personal invitation, he sat on the edge of the bed looking at his younger sibling. "What was it?"

Sam wasn't quite expecting to have to spew the contents of the dream as soon as he awoke, and he knew he certainly didn't want to go into his personal fantasy gone awry. So he answered the only way he could fathom.

"I have no idea," Sam said throwing the few covers that remained off his person. He swung his long legs over the bed, running his fingers through his matted hair, taking a deep breath in the process. Sam dropped his head into his hands as he propped himself up on his knees. "She was some kind of fox," he mumbled absently, working details through, not even realizing he had spoken aloud.

Dean's grin widened at the comment, arching his eyebrows up and down. "Way to go, kiddo! You get a little hanky panky in your dream? Girl or ghoul? At least you get it somewhere!"

_How does he do that?_

The younger man blushed slightly at Dean's comments, hoping he couldn't see the redness he felt overcome his face, suddenly glad for the lack of light. Instinctively, Sam punched his brother in the shoulder, surprised to find his side a little stiff. The pain startled him closer to full consciousness as more of the dream flashed to him.

Dean watched the moment play out before him, waiting for a response. He knew he struck a nerve that elicited a punch, so he was on the right trail. He also knew that having a wet dream would not make his brother shoot out of bed in a panicked state (unless it was a guy). The guardian in him learned over the past few months that the more he pushed Sam on the dreams, the more he retreated into himself. _Damn Shining!_ All joking aside, something instantly felt wrong about this and Dean wanted the details – sooner rather than later.

Sam emitted a heavy sigh, knowing he would have to tell his brother what happened.

This felt more like a message than a dream, a calling, and Sam couldn't quite wrap his head around the whole experience. There was interaction. Choice. With a beautiful woman that he instantly had a connection to; wanted to be with. Sam knew it could have gone a totally different way if he wouldn't have seen her tail. _Her tail?_ That was a mystery he would have to delve into. Minus the extra appendage, she was everything he wanted in a woman; at least, that's what she told him. That's what he _felt _as she advanced on him; as he gave in to her, slowly. The scenario replayed in his mind and he felt the excitement of her still coursing through him, even now. And that's what confused and even scared him.

Dean looked to Sam, watching as he unfurled the dream in his head piece by piece. He would never admit to Sam's face how much these dreams scared him. Not so much because of what they represented, although that did scare the shit out of him too, but because of what they did, day by day, to his little brother. This was something Dean could not protect him from. There was no gun or relic that could make these nightmares disappear, and that helplessness cut deep to the bone. His heart started to pound a little faster as he was distracted by a mark on his brother's face.

Dean reached forward to inspect the spot, hovering. He leaned in closer.

"Dude, what is this?"

Sam broke from his internal trance, bringing his hand instantly to his face, fingering the area of inquiry. He rubbed slightly and pulled his hand back, seeing a smudge on his digits. Sam's stomach lurched as confusion set in around him. The light clicked on next to the bed and he sprinted up toward the bathroom, followed closely by Dean. They ambled to the mirror to regard the image. Sam cocked his head and leaned into the reflection, twisting his head to see what was there.

Dean was the first to speak as he assessed the situation. "It looks like lipstick." He grabbed his brother's face and turned it toward him to get a better look.

Face paling, Sam snatched back his visage and leaned once again into the mirror. His heart sank as realization hit him. He was right, it wasn't a nightmare; it _was_ a vision. Somehow he was actually with the woman, and she wanted him to remember her. A message.

"Plum."

Dean scrunched his face at the comment, but realized that Sam was putting the pieces of the mystery together in his head. Leaving his sibling to think mode, he grabbed a towel from the rack to scrub away the ominous mark on Sam's face. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean spotted a line of red dots on his brother's shirt. Instantly, and without warning to Sam, Dean pulled the shirt up to reveal a large scratch up Sam's side, still trickling droplets of blood.

"Sam? What the hell?" Dean held the towel under the faucet for a brief moment, putting slight pressure on the scratch to wash it off.

Sam winced, surprised at the amount of pain on contact and glanced down. The removal of the towel revealed a claw mark from his encounter with the woman. She had left a physical mark as well so he would remember their rendezvous. Her own personal calling card.

"Shit."

Dean pulled back and blinked his eyes in fury. "Shit? That's all you're gonna to say?" He threw the towel to the sink. "Sam! What the hell did you see? What happened?"

Sam made his way to the toilet and sat down, pulling the towel with him. He looked again at the scratch and the image of her flooded his mind; excited him. Triggering the exquisite moments of the dream where he was overcome with emotion and lust. He gasped as he closed his eyes shut to the awareness, pushing the towel to the cut. Sam felt her hands roaming up his back and his lips in the nape of her neck. _Do I smell vanilla?_ Sam shook his head as the senses assaulted him from everywhere, not able to stop them.

"She…" Sam started, unable to finish as more images of their tryst overcame him. He felt Dean crouch to his side, but could not see the worry etched in his face. He could only imagine what was going through Dean's mind as he looked at him. With the image of Dean's fear overtaking those of want, _lust,_ Sam took a breath and tried to calm himself. Tried to extinguish the fire in his soul. He steadied his mind and opened his eyes to regard his brother's face in full-fledged Big Brother Mode. "We have to go to Iowa."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dean needled his younger sibling until he told him what happened. There was no way Sam would get away with some lame excuse when there was evidence of his vision scattered on his body; causing him harm_. Nothing_ hurt his brother. Hunter mode kicked in as he rode Sam about every detail he could muscle out of him. This was something new in the _world of weird_ for his brother, and so far Dean didn't like this new twist on the nightmares.

Sam slowly gave in to his brother, knowing that if they were going to stop this thing, they'd have to do it together. He recanted the vision, leaving the details closer to PG-13 for his own sake, from the beginning. Sam told the hunter that he eventually discovered the woman's tail through the shadows, sending her into fits of rage at her true form being revealed. She turned on him and attacked, thus leaving behind the tell-tale marks. He ended with the information she 'downloaded' into his brain on Holy Cross, Iowa.

Sam shuddered slightly as he admitted how they seemed to connect on a deeper level, and how beautiful she was. Dean knew it was difficult for Sam to acknowledge that he had any attraction to a woman other than Jessica - even Sarah - so he did not push for the further details of the tryst.

This 'deeper level' thing with a woman that they weren't even sure really existed was another pang of worry in the ever-growing knot of Dean's stomach.

Nothing about this was good. Dean held his tongue at how much this freaked him out. The visions were bad enough, but now knowing that Sam could be harmed through them – physically – was tearing him apart. It didn't go unnoticed how his brother had a vacant look about him as he relived the vision. This bitch was going down.

Sam was haunted. He knew they had to go check this out, but he didn't know why. Strangely, he could not tell Dean about her 'command' that he come to her. There seemed to be a block preventing him from revealing too much information to his brother. There was no indication of what 'evil' the woman was doing in Holy Cross in the vision, but he knew it was just wrong. They had to destroy her.

The young hunter also knew that he wanted to go; _needed_ to go, to check this out. She called to Sam over hundreds of miles through his dreams, and he had to follow through. She said he _felt_ different; like she had been searching for a long time for him; or someone like him. They connected for some particular reason, and that scared him most of all.

After quizzing his brother further, Dean was satisfied that he could leave Sam to his own devices while he went to scavenge some food. While he didn't like that this woman, this _thing_, had snagged a part of his younger sibling, he was confident that she could only reach him when he was asleep. With that realization, he grabbed his coat and shut the door.

When Dean returned thirty minutes later, with coffee and breakfast sandwiches in tow, he noted a relieved look on Sam's face indicating that 'Geek Boy' had found the answer. Dean left the bag on the table, but brought the coffee to his sibling, who took it gratefully. Sam's research took him through various websites, turning up the clues to track this woman down. Without prompting, Sam began the oratory of his discovery before Dean even shut the door.

"It seems my friend was a Kitsune," Sam began shifting through his bookmarked pages ready to give the speech to his brother.

"Bless you."

"Ha ha," Sam replied, not able to stop the smile that crossed his face. It never seemed to matter what the situation was, Dean always had a joke. Even as he was being ripped apart by The Demon, he still had time for a wise-ass comment to try and change the mood; challenge it. It could be the most infuriating thing in the world, but most of the time, Sam was appreciative of his brother's ability to make light of a situation. In this case, he knew he needed it more than he wanted to admit; that security blanket of Dean wrapped around him.

Dean approached him from behind, leaning over the computer, and Sam began to spill the information he had found. "A Kitsune is a Japanese 'fox spirit,' or at least that's what it translates to."

Dean studied the screen in front of him, doing a brief scan of the open site. "So they have the ability to shapeshift from fox to human at will – that explains the tail - _and they usually choose the form of a beautiful woman,_" Dean read aloud to Sam who watched his brother as he absorbed the information, taking a quick sip of his coffee.

"Right! And check this out! In addition to shapeshifting, they have the ability to possess individuals, and they can generate _fire_ from their tails, or breathe it. She did _both_ of those things in my vision!" Sam sat back, clearly confident that this is what they were dealing with. "Not to mention she turned into a fox and ran away after she…was done with me."

Dean held his tongue, itching to shoot back with a smart ass reply, but he needed to get through the information and on the road to Iowa to finish this thing off. "…_the power to manifest in __dreams__, the power to fly, the ability to create elaborate illusions that are hard to distinguish from reality_." Dean took a quick breath and a sip of coffee, scrolling the page down. "_Other tales speak of the Kitsune having the ability to bend time and space, or to drive people mad._ Bending time! Insanity! Super! You sure know how to pick 'em," Dean replied, suddenly not liking this thing even more.

He continued to the last section on the site, feeling the need to read aloud to refresh Sam's memory. "_Occasionally Kitsune are ascribed a characteristic reminiscent of __vampires__ or __succubi__ — these Kitsune feed on the life or spirit of humans, generally through sexual contact."_ He looked back at his brother with a hollow feeling in his stomach, wondering if they got to that point in his vision. Dean received no indication from reading his brother's face. "This _does_ sound like our creature feature. How do we kill it?"

Sam flipped the screen back towards himself, seeming unphased by the last comments Dean read. "Well, there isn't a lot about that, but it appears they are vulnerable to the same things as humans – guns, knives. I think we can probably just shoot it. Should be pretty simple," Sam added, pleased at the research he found. He rewarded himself with a long gulp of the steamy beverage.

"Simple, huh?" Dean retorted and shook his head, unconsciously glancing to Sam's T-shirt where the blood still remained. The pit of his stomach fell, feeling suddenly like taking his little brother and running far, far away. "Those are the hunts that scare me the most."

The hunters exchanged looks, and Sam knew that Dean was right. Maybe the woman didn't realize what they did for a living. Maybe she just randomly chose him. Maybe. Sam shifted and returned to the internet to see about any additional unexplained 'activity' in Holy Cross.

Dean turned from the computer and headed back to the door where their bagged meal was waiting. The food sack was ripped open and before the wrapper was off the sandwich, Dean had inhaled half of it. He sat back on the bed, still eying his brother, watching the fingers do the walking on the internet. The remaining sandwich landed a perfect bullseye next to the laptop, startling Sam. He threw a scowl at his brother, but picked up the food and tore into it as he began the new search.

The first image that came up was the church he had seen in the vision, clear as day. Sam shuddered as he put the first pieces together. "Holy Cross, population 339. Average age 36. Oh, listen to this; they have high speed wireless internet access and a modern water system! Goodie!"

"Sounds like a present day miracle," quipped Dean in reply, taking the final ounces of coffee and finishing them off. "Any crime stats? Anything unusual in Mayberry?"

Sam continued to page through the area finding nothing of interest, gnawing at the sandwich. He even expanded the search to the surrounding areas. Once they hit Dubuque, it was a little more active, but it seemed that 25 miles was a bit far for the Kitsune to make her mark.

"It's almost like she's hiding out in this little no-nothing community..."

"…waiting for her next victim," added Dean somberly, crumpling his sandwich wrapper and making a basket. He rose instinctively and went to his brother. "Listen, Sam. I don't know about this. If she's not really doing anything, maybe we should let well enough alone. It almost," he stopped for a moment, hoping he didn't sound too shielding after last night's incident, "sounds like a trap, and you're the big cheese. _Not _liking those odds."

Sam sighed, thinking the same thing. He used the moment to reflect as he finished off his coffee; not sure what he wanted to do or say. It didn't really feel like a gig, just an oddity they happened upon – through a vision. Still, his visions happened for a reason. Not to mention the unnatural draw, _need_, he had within him to abide by her wishes. The Kitsune had the ability to create elaborate illusions; maybe this was just part of it.

In the vision, Sam was alone as he entered the house. If Dean was with him, could they change the outcome?

"I don't know. I'm really torn, but I'm leaning toward not going," Sam finally answered, making a basket of his own with the wrapper.

Dean nodded, secretly smiling that his brother was open to the possibility of _not _going. "Let's finish up the recon here. We still have a few loose ends to clean up before we hit the road. How 'bout some R&R tonight and we'll head out in the morning. We'll see how we feel about it then."

"Sounds good to me."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After kicking back a few beers and hustling some pool at the local bar in the evening, the boys stumbled back to the room after midnight. Dean noted that Sam was 'off' all night, but relegated himself to watcher, not lecturer. His brother had a few more beers than he normally would have, and even flirted with a girl. A devilishly pretty blonde. Sam even tried his hand at pool, using moves that Dean had taught him. He surprised his opponent, and Dean, by actually winning a sizable amount of cash on a risky shot. _Gambling!_ _Very un-Samlike_! Dean could see the youngest Winchester trying to escape from the vision and what it had done to his psyche; and that didn't bode well for the coming events.

Dean was worried.

Sam stumbled into bed fully clothed and was out like a light in no time. _Another not-so-good sign._ Dean undressed himself, leaving Sam in his layers, and crawled into bed, propping himself up to watch his sleeping brother. The older hunter suddenly wondered about the details Sam forgot to mention from the vision. Wondering what would wait for his brother as he slept this time.

Sam's breathing indicated he was in a deep sleep and the protector watched for any signs of danger. After an hour of nothing, Dean finally decided he would allow himself some rest as well. They were definitely going to Iowa after the way Sam reacted tonight, and he wanted to make sure he was on top of his game for whatever would be thrown their way.

Just as Dean drifted to his well-deserved sleep, Sam moved uncomfortably on the bed.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

_They stopped at the local diner to grab a bite to eat and go over the attack plan in Holy Cross. The boys sat at a small table hidden from the main pathway of customers so they could speak in private without the threat of being overheard._

"_Once we find this place, I think if I go in first, we'll have a better shot," replied Dean looking over the menu, not really sure why he was bothering. A burger tasted the same in any greasy spoon. "She won't be expecting that move, she'll be expecting you, alone. When we're inside, we can take care of her; quick and easy."_

_Sam flipped through the menu, distracted. Uncomfortable. He was listening to Dean but he was also lost in his head, wondering if they should be doing this. Feeling conflict between ending her or starting a new life with her. Wanting to hold her again and run his fingers up her spine. _Why do I feel this way?_ "Yeah, you're probably right," he managed, shaking away the raw emotion ripping in his soul, acknowledging that he was part of the conversation. _Evil is evil. She has to go. "_We'll check out the property when we get there to see if there is a back entrance that I can sneak into."_

"_Are you ready to order," asked the waitress from nowhere. Dean glanced up to see the most beautiful woman he had seen – in the last day. She was stunning with her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her too-tight shirt accompanied by a short mini skirt was just what Dean was looking for in _Miss Right-Now

_Sam was still buried in the menu, trying to find something at least a bit healthy to eat. He could tell the waitress must have either been dog ugly or beyond gorgeous since Dean had not responded to the simple question. Sam figured it was the latter and he was probably writing his phone number on a napkin and pressing it to her hand. The suspense was killing him at the lack of noise coming from the other side of the table. Sam stole a look upward to find the Kitsune standing above them._

"_Dean! It's her!"_

_But Dean would be of no assistance. In fact, as he looked to his brother, he found that he seemed to be in mid-sentence, replying to her question with a shit-eating grin on his face. Frozen. Sam surveyed the rest of the diner as well. No one moved, anywhere. It was just the woman and him. Alone in time._

Time benders. Shit!

"_Did you miss me," the woman asked sweetly, pulling Sam's thoughts from the recon of the diner. She pulled Sam's chair back from the table with surprising strength. Her warm hands went to Sam's neck and massaged his upper torso seductively; roughly. He shivered at her sultry touch, as a tingle went up his spine, leaving an open invitation for her to make her next move. She flew to the front of him with agility and straddled his lap, fisting her hands in his shirt and pulling him closer. Inches from his face she taunted him again like a Siren to the fishermen. "Because I _sure_ missed you."_

_She was intoxicating; overwhelming. Sam's insides flip-flopped with excitement, even though his mind screamed to grab his brother and run. He lost his will once again, and looked into her unrelenting eyes; feeling that connection to her soul instantly. Togetherness. Unconsciously, his hands found her trim waist, succumbing to her, uniting their essences into one. He dove into her neck again, breathing in the scent that was specifically hers._

"_You tried to kill me earlier," Sam said, continuing to let his physical self enjoy the moment, as his hands rose instinctively to her backside, searching for the tail he would not find. The Kitsune was impressed that he had the ability to still have a conversation while she consumed him. She elevated her control and felt the man relinquish._

_Sam's mind tried to focus on what needed to be done, but his soul reached back to her, leaving him open to her desires. The internal struggle was unrelenting as Sam could feel himself falling under her spell once again. "Why would I miss you?"_

_In response, the woman rose higher on Sam's lap, pressing into him; teasing him with her feminine wiles. Her hands were making their way slowly down his chest, smiling at the tight muscles she remembered. She stopped suddenly and pulled back, looking him in the eyes. "Because we're meant to be together - you and me. You feel the same things that I feel," she continued her descent below and he gasped as she undid his pants. "I've been looking for you across the miles and you finally answered back. That's why you're here." _

_Her words snapped Sam back to reality and he pushed her back at arm's length. The cloud that enveloped his mind was dissipating as he gained control of himself again. "No! How can you possibly think we can be together? You're not even human!" He looked across the table at Dean who still had the same expression on his face – unmoving. Unable to help Sam._

_The woman's face fell to a pout at Sam's accusations of her humanity, mocking his bravado. It turned her on even more. "Sam, what does that matter, as long as we can be together?" She reached and stroked the side of his face gingerly. "We are more alike than you think. We're different from them." She indicated the restaurant with a quick hand gesture. "Surely you know what I am by now and know there can be a happy ending." She dove back into his neck, making her way up the side of his face as her hands reached downward. Her eyes snapped golden yellow as she hovered with a taunting smile, teasing his lips with her own; soft breath whispering. "Come to me. Be with me. We can be happy. Don't you want to be happy, Sam?" she kissed him deeply as her fingers returned to his face and ran through his long brown locks. _

_Sam closed his eyes to the passion and felt himself let go to his inner desires. _I want to be happy. _He wanted her more than anything in the world. Wanted to taste her. Feel her. Know her – all of her. Sam's head was filled with her lies, telling him what to do and think; and he was letting her. His body moved with hers as he countered with his hands under her skirt. He could be with her, they could be happy. Dean would understand…_

_Dean._

"_No!" Sam jumped from the chair, looking at his brother's expression, frozen in time. He backed away from her touch. "Get out of my head!" He picked up a knife from a nearby table and waved it at her. She looked at it and frowned, still not willing to give up on him._

"_Is that how it's to be then? What a shame, Sam." She leaned backwards into the table seductively, bringing the chair to her. Her long legs stretched and teased as her skirt rose higher. "Why can't you only be with me? Why do you have to share yourself?" She threw a look of hatred back to Dean and advanced toward him threateningly. "What do they know? They cannot possibly understand what we have, what we could become together. What we **are**." Her hands were now resting on Dean's shoulders, waiting for Sam's next move. "Aren't you even curious to know, Sam, what we could do, together?" _

_The fear rose for his brother's safety as she stroked the side of Dean's face. _

_Her comments struck Sam, hard. "We are nothing alike," Sam gasped, fearing she would do something to Dean, praying she was lying. He dropped the knife and made his way back to the other side of the table, hoping she would return to his side and leave Dean alone. Sam grabbed his head as he felt her riffling through it like a filing cabinet. He steadied himself and continued his verbal assault, trying to lure her back. "You hurt my brother and all these people. I would never do anything like that." Sam risked approaching her, grabbing her arms, pulling her away from Dean. She allowed the move to let him believe he was in control. "Let them go, and get the hell out of here." The anger brewed from his lips and she quivered with anticipation of their next meeting._

_The Kitsune smiled at his tenacity, licking her lips. Watching his denial as she looked in his deep, brown eyes. _Brother? Interesting…_ She closed her eyes once more to gather the last bits of information she needed from Sam's mind. "You _are_ a challenge, I'll give you that. We'll see what you _really _want when the time comes. What you are willing to do, and risk." She turned once more to regard Dean, sending a clear message. The woman released herself easily from Sam's grasp and straightened herself out. "When you come to me, you'll have one more chance. If you refuse me again, then no one will have you."_


	3. Chapter 3

Pardon me a moment while I sew my heart back together after last night.

Oh my God. I've never been so stunned by an episode. I'm working on a one-shot (because I _know _you can't get enough of all my silly ramblings) with the assistance of Geminigrl. I'll try and post it tonight or tomorrow. It's called After the Fall (not really sure why). I just had some unresolved issues in my head and it kept me up for quite some time last night...

Thanks again to Gem for helping with this chapter as well. Hopefully I'm not scaring all of you off.

Thanks also for the lovely reviews and to those of you still sticking with me.

:D

Caroline

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**Chapter 3**

Sam awoke with a start; beads of sweat pooling across his face; dripping to the yellow stained hotel pillow. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he was a little short of breath. Slowly, though, the final moments of the encounter with the Kitsune began to loosen their grip on his waking self. A deep-seated panic rooted in his gut as he realized how much of a threat this woman was; to him and, more importantly, to Dean. She now had information that she hadn't had before; confirmation of Sam's kinship for his brother. When she glared at Dean in the diner, she had a look about her of a jealous girlfriend._ "Why can't you only be with me? Why do you have to share yourself?" _Almost like Dean was 'the other woman' in their twisted, mental relationship. The feeling, on many levels, terrified Sam as the madness of this creature was taking hold in their lives.

Now she knew how to get to Sam.

The hunter raised his hand to his forehead, wiping away the wetness and taking a deep breath, instantly alerting Dean to his wakefulness. Sam saw the movement from Dean in the bed next to him, and turned to face him. There was just enough moonlight through the curtains to illuminate Dean's face, creased in concern, waiting for his brother to explain the latest details.

"She thinks we are connected," Sam began, propping himself up in bed, noticing for the first time that the extra beers he had were causing a slight headache. He pressed his fingers to his temples to try and move the hangover along, to no avail. "And…I'm not sure she's wrong," he whispered desperately.

Dean cocked his head at Sam's comments, waiting for a further explanation, but received none. He watched Sam's body language for additional clues to aches and pains; internal and external. The hunter surveyed the hands to the head like he had x-ray vision, and saw the sheen of sweat enveloping his brother's features. That was enough for Dean. This was getting _way_ too personal and he refused to put his brother in harm's way.

"Sam, I don't like this," Dean began, swinging himself up and over the bed, sitting next to Sam on the bed. He eyed his brother with scrutiny, waiting for other signs of the Kitsune's attack. Satisfied she hadn't left a physical mark this time, he continued, "I don't think we should go to Iowa. I don't like the idea of her reaching you in your _dreams._ In person, that's a whole new ballgame. Who knows what she's capable of?"

_I do…_

Dean could see Sam thinking over the right answer to give his brother. Rather than letting him answer, Dean took a different approach to the problem at hand, interrupting Sam's thought process.

"Why don't I go myself and take care of her? I can drop you off a town or two over. Hang out at the library? Get yourself a mate latte half cream frufru drink and play on your laptop? That way you don't have to worry about your, _connection_ to her."

It sounded logical. Sam wanted to follow that plan, to listen to the man that would always protect him, but Sam knew he had to go. Then another part of him took over and rationalized that he had to find out for himself how much of this was truth and what was buried in emotion. Deep down, he knew what he had experienced, at least on some level, was real, somewhere frozen in time a hundred plus miles away. A mix between vision and message. A taste of what could be. She was powerful, certainly more powerful than he had given her credit for initially, and it scared Sam that she had chosen him for whatever her plans were.

"No, Dean, I have to go. I need to know what this is about and why she is connecting to me." He conveniently left off his overwhelming fear for Dean's safety and his undying desire to touch her in the flesh, to feel her pulse beat beneath his hands. To taste her lips and breathe in her rich scent of vanilla.

Sam pushed his body over the bed, sitting for a moment next to his brother. After the constant tossing and turning of the nightmare, the feeling of the buzz rush drove away from him and the hangover came on full-force. He got up slowly, scratching the side of his head, and started toward the bathroom.

Absently, Sam looked down to see he had not bothered changing into sleepwear – or he'd been too drunk to know any better as he'd fallen into bed earlier in the evening. He felt uncomfortable in his jeans and looked down. He noticed the top button was undone and the zipper halfway down, sending a horrifying shock wave through his system. Sam grabbed for the table to steady himself as more pieces of the vision hit him.

"Sam?"

Dean rose to meet his brother who now looked as though he would hurl the remnants of his beer and pretzels from the bar. He watched as his wobbly brother strained to get control of his physical state. The keen hunter knew Sam was not fighting a hangover, but something that had happened in the vision.

"I _was_ there, with her," Sam began, not knowing where to go with his thoughts. His body tingled again at the thought of her near him, caressing his skin. Sam closed his eyes; his hand rose to his neck, feeling where her lips left their imprint. _Vanilla. Oh God._ "We were, she was…" He looked to Dean to help him fill in the blanks.

"What is it, Sammy? What happened?"

The younger brother looked down at his pants with his mouth agape, quickly buttoning the button in embarrassment. "I think I was literally with her, well, not _with_ her, in my vision. Like before, but stronger this time."

Dean's eyes glanced downward to where his brother was focused, seeing him pull the zipper back into place. Putting two and two together, Dean's insides began to boil as he realized the control she had over his brother. Sam seemed to give himself to her willingly, and that was unlike his brother – on many levels.

"Now I know we're _definitely_ not going. Not with the shit she can do." Dean grabbed Sam and placed him back onto the bed, realizing he could keel over at any moment. Out of habit, he reached for Sam's forehead to feel for fever, relieved when he found no signs.

Sam's brown orbs looked up at his brother, begging for additional guidance, his helplessness at the situation growing with each passing moment. Dean could see the anxiety in his brother's eyes stabbing at him like an ice pick. He sighed audibly, hoping somehow that release of breath would sooth his aching gut and cure his brother of the jeopardy. No such luck.

Sam knew he was in trouble-deep. He'd had visions before. Hell, he'd even moved a dresser to save Dean's life (not that he could use that power when it mattered a second time), but nothing like this had ever happened before. It was like some physical part of him was being transported to wherever she was to have a 'moment alone,' to tighten up their connection. There was no doubt that something was going on. Between the lipstick, the claw marks and now his jeans, he knew he was in over his head. The desperation showed in his eyes, even in the darkness.

"You're right. I… don't think I can handle this," Sam said with an honesty that tore through Dean's heart. "She…"

Dean sat next to him, trying to comfort him, feeling a new helplessness come over him. This was one of those moments that he hated more than anything. An emotional Sammy made an unhappy Dean, and he sincerely had no idea where to go to help his little brother. It wasn't that he was incapable of showing emotion – it was just not in Dean's make-up to venture down that path.

"I'll go," Dean interrupted, looking at the apprehension on Sam's face. The warrior kicked in and took control of the situation. It scared Dean that Sam was so lost and confused. It scared him even more what this woman could do. He didn't want to find out any further than these dreams. "We'll stick to the other plan – you surrounded by books, or lattes, whatever you want. But you're not stepping foot in that house."

Sam could only nod his appreciation and understanding of his personal failure. He could not place Dean in additional danger by being a liability during the hunt. The young hunter turned to his brother and snorted a "huh" in his direction, shaking his head. "I've never felt this way before, Dean. Not even with Jessica," he paused as he confessed the additional information about his unnatural draw to the woman. "She has some kind of _control_ over me and… I can't stop myself." Sam placed his head in his hands, then found his way to his neck to press out the stress in his tired muscles.

_Control? Shit, what does _that_ mean?_

"Which is why you _aren't going_." Dean broke in, rising from the bed and gathering a glass of water from the sink. "If she can harm you physically and can influence you mentally, I'll lock your ass up somewhere safe while I waste the bitch. Here," he said, handing the glass to Sam, along with two Tylenol he found on the countertop.

Sam smiled gratefully as he downed the pills, a sense of comfort and peace coming over him. He knew Dean was right; that he couldn't go, even though his body and mind begged to differ. His soul joined the party, trying to convince Sam that going to Holy Cross was the right thing to do. He took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away with confidence, knowing that he would have to defer to Dean in this instance since he was obviously not of sound mind.

"It's just…. _Ahhh_." Sam fell to the floor, spilling the water as he grabbed his head. He lay on his side, twisting at the invasion. All his senses were attacked at once and the pain cocooned him, wrapping him like a boa constrictor. Suddenly the screaming stopped and a blank stare came over his face.

"Sammy? SAM!" Dean dove to the floor to cradle his brother in his lap. He checked for a pulse and relaxed as he found a strong heartbeat. Dean flipped him upward to find his eyes glazed over and unblinking. _Like part of him is gone_. "Shit!" Dean's own heart began to race as he paged through ideas in his head.

His first instinct was to slap his face to wake him. When that didn't work, he grabbed the cup on the floor and noted a few drops of water left. Dean splashed them on Sam's blank face. No luck. The older hunter fisted his hand and began to rub fiercely into Sam's sternum, hoping to elicit some kind of response from the sheer pressure.

"Damn it, Sam! You have to fight this! She can't win!"

Nothing.

Dean began to panic, running out of ideas to help his brother.

"Christo!"

Nothing.

"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis"

Nothing.

"God damn it!"

Then Sam gasped, and his head fell back into Dean, eyes closed. Dean started over again with the same pattern by slapping his face gently. This time he was rewarded as Sam's eyes scrunched then pried themselves open.

"Sam, what the hell happened?"

Sam began to prop himself up; still seemingly out of breath. He inhaled deeply, but began to cough at the air on the back of his raw throat. Weakly, Sam pulled himself up, releasing his brother and leaning against the bed.

"Do you want water?" asked Dean with a note of fright in his voice, seeing his brother was unable to answer without hacking up a lung. Sam nodded. Within seconds, Dean was once again beside his traumatized brother, helping him sip the liquid, hoping it wouldn't make him gag.

Sam glanced up at the worried face staring back at him, with a gratitude that was undeniable. He formed words and tried to speak. "I… have to…go."

"No! We just agreed, Sam! You're not going anywhere near her!"

Sam's eyes began to focus again just as a drop of blood trickled from Sam's nose. Then another, and another. A steady stream developed as a panicked Dean jumped to get some toilet paper. Shaking like a leaf at the deteriorated state his brother was now in, he raced back and held it under his sibling's nose, trying to stop the flow.

"You okay? Does it hurt?" Dean leaned Sam's head back a bit to try and stop the oozing.

Sam continued his choppy speech pattern, ignoring his brother's woes. "Have to…she can find me…anywhere," Sam struggled with the words. "Have to end it." He closed his eyes and pressed his head back to the bed as a tear fell down his face.

"Sam," Dean said, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to relay the comfort Sam so desperately needed from him.

"We'll go in the morning," Sam announced, taking the toilet paper from his nose and rolling it to a tube. He shoved it in his nose and tilted forward to rise. Dean got up and assisted him to his feet, watching where he was heading. Sam simply stood, waiting for the dizziness to pass and started to step forward. "There's no other way. If we don't end it, she'll kill both of us." He made his way to the bathroom to survey the damage from the latest night-time attack.

Dean turned to intercept him, grabbing him by the arms. "Sam. You can't do this. You are not in control. I can't watch you go through that." There was a slight hitch in his voice. Their eyes met with their unspoken language. Dean could see that Sam was determined to make the journey. The only thing Dean could think to do was hit below the belt.

"Can I trust you at my side in a fight? How do I know you can pull this off?"

Dean's words stung as Sam continued forward, breaking eye contact. He felt his insides twist at the lack of confidence his brother had in him. But Sam knew it was true, he could be a danger to Dean. If Sam could just get in and finish the job; change the outcome of the visions, they would both be safe and live to fight another day. If there was any other way to do this, Sam would take it. But she was specific.

_If you don't come, with your brother, I'll tear him apart in front of you. Right where you stand. And you _know_ I can do it_.

There was no way that Sam would let that happen. He'd already watched that scenario once and it was not something he was willing to do through again. He would be prepared, physically and mentally for the fight with her.

Even if it meant losing his own life to protect his brother's.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, the site is sure out of whack! No alerts, not being able to upload! Ugh! Anyway, I hope you all had a nice weekend!

Thanks again to Gem for her amazing beta skills. She didn't like the end and made me rewrite it 3 times (slavedriver!) until we both agreed. Yeah!

I'm sure a bunch of you won't get this, but that's ok. Those that do, I hope you enjoy!

By the way, if any of you are NOT aware of the interview Kripke did with tvguide online 10/19, check it out. There are some fun spoiler-type things, but he is concerned about the ratings. Try and hook your friends, see what you can do. I would hate for the season to end at 2 when there are so many amazing things going on in this program (stepping from soap box)

:D

Caroline

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 4**

The road to Holy Cross was quiet.

Sam refused to sleep, fearing what might come to him in the dream. However, he now knew if she wanted to send him a mental email, there was no stopping her. He replayed the messages, the feelings, over and over in his head, each time realizing there was no other way. His stomach curled at the various emotions digging at his insides. She needed to die, of that he was now sure, but the part she collected from Sam – the part that truly believed he loved her – was still fighting within. And he wasn't sure he could fight back.

Dean kept sending leery glances towards Sam, hoping that he would give some indication of what was happening inside his grey matter; wanting to put a salt circle around his brain

_I wish he would tell me what's going on. We can figure this out._

The open-eyed vision really had scared Dean. Whatever she'd done had caused Sam extreme pain, and when the blood had poured from his nose, Dean was beside himself; feeling he had failed his little brother. It was bad enough she got to him in the dreams; now they had to worry about when he was awake.

And something - some dialogue the brothers had – had triggered it.

_Can she read Sam's mind now as well?_

Too many questions without answers were stirring through Dean's mind. And every mile that passed brought more worry for Sam and for how they were going to get out of this.

They hit Holy Cross city limits and Dean made his way to the nearest diner to grab a quick bite before they went in search of the Kitsune. Sam was lost in himself, not paying attention to their surroundings. He was trying to mentally prepare himself for the encounter to come. Using his own inner techniques to calm him and build up his defenses. His brother's life depended on it.

Sam didn't notice the detour from the road until the car stopped, looking to Dean to see what was going on.

"Food. We need to eat before we go." _And I need you to spill about what you know._ With that, he opened the door and made his way to the front door. Sam reluctantly followed.

A large, cheery-faced woman greeted Dean as he entered. She looked him over, then saw the he was not alone. "Well, you boys must be from out of town. Don't get many strangers around here. Come in. Sit!" She ushered them to a table in the back corner, out of the way.

Sam was so lost in the tumult of emotions - his fears, both for Dean and himself, of how or even _if_ there was any way out of this nightmare - that it hadn't even registered where they were. Once his conscious mind caught up, he froze in terror. His head began to spin as he looked around to see the exact diner from the vision. Panic overtook him as he scanned for the woman, looking at everyone blonde in the diner. All he received were blank stares shooting back at him. He could feel his knees getting weak and his face paling.

Dean noted the lack of presence behind him and quickly headed back towards his frightened brother.

Realization hit him square in the jaw, moments too late. "Is this…the diner," Dean managed before grabbing Sam's arm to steady him. He turned Sam to face him, knowing without a word that they had stumbled into his nightmare.

Sam swallowed and nodded his head ever-so-slightly. His eyes continued to frantically roam the area, looking for any signs of her. Waiting for her next move. Expecting at any moment that time would stand still and he would be here, with her, alone.

"Do you want to leave?"

The young man stood stock-still, taking a breath and releasing it. Sam shook his head and made his way toward the table, choosing to sit on the opposite side from his usual, more towards the corner looking out. Sam wanted to be able to view the whole restaurant. He wanted to see her coming, if she dared make her move. Unconsciously, Sam reached for the small of his back, realizing that he didn't have the security blanket of his pistol there.

But he did have Dean.

Dean watched his brother as he sat, not liking the look in Sam's eyes. He looked like a caged animal, waiting for a chance at freedom. Looking scared.

"So, Monica, are you our waitress on this fine day?" Dean asked looking at the woman's nametag, hoping to break the awkward silence that overtook the diner, fishing for additional information.

She shook the oddity of the moment away, still wondering about the tall young man who seated himself at the table, and regarded the suave man who addressed her. "Yup, I'm the only waitress." After several moments of staring at Sam, she finally leaned in a little to Dean and whispered, "Is he alright?"

Dean knew this was coming as soon as Sam made his scene upon entering the diner. He flashed the million dollar smile and thumbed at his brother. "Who, him? Yeah, he's fine. Got back from the Gulf War and he's a little…well, you know." He motioned to his head to try and convey Sam's state. "Hasn't been the same since."

Sam didn't blink at her curious fascination with him; he just continued to survey the restaurant, waiting. Oblivious to the fun Dean was having at his expense.

Monica stole another quick glance at the troubled, lost young man huddled in the corner. She smiled back, this time with pity. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She straightened herself a bit and tried to trudge on. "What can I get for you boys? Coffee? Soda?"

"Coffee," they said in unison. Dean was pleased that Sam had not been too lost to know when coffee was needed.

"Be right back with that for you, sweetie," the waitress added, looking at Sam with a smile. "Here are the menus." She scurried away back behind the counter, answering whispers of the strangers before them. Dean was amused by his cover story and heard _War_ and _Shell-shock_ come from over his shoulder.

_That was easy_.

"Small towns," he said, looking for a reaction from Sam. He was left with silence.

Sam seemed to pay him no mind once again. He had switched into personal defense mode, feeling the restaurant was clear. He was now deep within himself, trying to guard against any foreign mental attack. Sam wasn't really sure how, but he was ready to try, using all the strength he had.

In his dream, he'd been helpless. Sam had to play along with her game, her manipulation, but now, here, he felt different. Senses were on high alert, even though he made no outward motions. Sam knew if she was anywhere near, he would feel her instantly. So far so good.

Dean would have had a better conversation with the salt shaker. In fact he did! No matter what he did or said, there was little or no reaction from Sam, except when the coffee arrived. He watched as Sam acknowledged the cup, took a quick sip and returned back inside. The fragile man didn't even put cream or sugar in the coffee. He drank it black.

Dean let out a deep sigh.

He knew that his brother was nervous, but he needed to know exactly what had happened so they could end this nightmare. The clam sitting across the table from him revealed no new information and refused to tell him what the daytime vision held. Dean suspected the Kitsune had dragged him into this somehow, convinced Sam that Dean's life was in danger if he didn't do what she demanded. He knew that Sam was scared; not just for himself, but actually for Dean. He knew that Sam would now do anything she asked if it meant saving Dean's life - and he wanted no part of that.

There was already too much self-sacrifice going around and Dean would be damned if Sam was going to go down that path.

Dean was anxious to blow this bitch away and get the hell out of Dodge so his brother would return back to normal. Well, normal for Sammy.

The food arrived a short time later and Sam only picked at the items on the plate. He had the persona of a frightened child who had just seen a monster under his bed. He was too preoccupied with everything else going on in his head and around him to really care about eating.

Dean, on the other hand, scarfed the food in several bites, knowing that he would need all the strength he could muster for the upcoming battle. Sam would do his best to help out, but ultimately, Dean knew he would have to do this on his own. Sam's emotions and desires would get the best of him, especially since both had been running on overload. The kid was about to break – right in front of him – and the Kitsune would do what she could to control Sam from the get-go.

This gig would have to be quick and easy in order to protect Sam. Get in, shoot the bitch, get out. End of story.

Dean looked to his little brother. The tall man of 6'4", hunched in the corner, looked small and broken. Sam's eyes darted around the restaurant; looking for the vixen to come into his view and snatch his brother's essence in front of him. There was a slight tremor about him that added the finishing touches on the breakdown.

The time had come for action.

Dean's gut twisted as he tried to come up with the right thing to say. He couldn't sit and watch his brother fall apart in front of him. He wouldn't let this thing take control. At this point, Dean wasn't even sure who was sitting across from him, and that scared the hell out of him.

"Sam. We have to talk about this. We can't go in there unprepared."

Sam picked up a French fry and spun it around, finally dropping it back to the plate. His focus shifted to finally meet his brother's gaze, and uttered the first words in ages. "She lives at 226 Sunshine Street. It's a white ranch-style house about two miles from here," Sam said with a strain in his voice, peering up with brown eyes filled with sorrow. "I think she knows we're coming… today."

"Did you… tell her we were here, Sammy?" Dean asked apprehensively. "I mean, not on purpose, but…"

The hunter shook his head. "I just know."

An involuntary shiver went up Dean's spine. It didn't go unnoticed by his younger brother.

The duo quickly left the restaurant after the locals decided to pick up the tab for their Soldier of Fortune.

"Thanks, man. We appreciate all you did for us overseas," they called to Sam as they headed out the door. Dean waved his appreciation and ushered his sibling into the waiting vehicle, avoiding anything awkward Sam might say in protest.

"You ready?" Dean posed, closing the door behind him. He looked to Sam who nodded unconvincingly. "I can still do this alone. I think you made some friends back there that would love to keep you compa…."

"I said I was ready, Dean. What part don't you understand?" Sam shot back with a glare that could kill. There was a fire in his eyes that was wrapped around sorrow and fear all at once. Dean thought he could get lost with all the messages they sent to him. Each one happening upon a different part of his own stricken soul.

Dean regarded Sam for a moment, taking in the posture and then pressed on. "Ok, Crankmaster, don't get all mad at me because your girlfriend has the hots for you. Geez!" _Well, that didn't come out right._ Dean sighed and attempted to start the ignition of the car, only to be stopped by Sam. The older man looked back with a furrowed brow.

"Is that what you think this is? That because she's…_calling_ to me, that I can't kill her? Can't do the job? Honestly?" Sam's eyes began to tear, not anticipating his meltdown in front of his brother. This wasn't how he wanted it to play out, but now that the words poured from him, he knew there was no stopping it.

"That last vision?" Sam continued on, not waiting for his brother to interrupt, "she told me if I didn't bring you along for the ride, she would kill you. In the hotel, right there, in front of me." A tear slipped down his face as he looked to Dean, emotion exuding from his strained voice. "I can't let that happen to you. I can't…go through that again." He paused to take a breath, trying to steady himself emotionally to continue.

"Do you know how helpless I felt - the _Great and Powerful Oz_ - back in the cabin? I couldn't move the gun, Dean, the God damn gun, to save you." Sam ran his fingers through his hair, fisting it, trying to alleviate some of his anger-turned-hysteria. He let out a snort and continued the monologue. "He called me _Psychic boy,_ knowing I couldn't do a damn thing, and I watched him _tear you apart_, with Dad's face to boot. I would have done anything, but I couldn't save you…" He hitched at the mention of their father.

The steady flow of tears came now like a crack in a levee. This was Sam's breaking point; the moment he had holed up inside since that night in the cabin. All his failures to protect the brother who would do anything for _him_. All the injuries Dean received by throwing himself into the line of fire so Sam would not get hurt. All of it came crashing down, and he would be damned to let the Kitsune have her way with his brother; not when he had a chance to make it right. Sam would not let it happen.

"Sam! Is that what this is about?" Dean let out a delicate chuckle, carefully calculated. Humor was a difficult thing when it came to Sam. The kid was such an emotional mess, that one laugh in the face could turn against him, and the message would be lost. Most of the time it worked, but there were those rare moments where it had to be used appropriately. "The _Demon_? Are you kidding? Sam we did everything we could to stop that son of a bitch – short of killing Dad ourselves. You think because you couldn't use your 'powers' that you have to rush in to save me from the 'baddie of the week' to make up for it? Hell no," Dean shot back and then added, "And now I _know_ you're not coming with me."

"Dean, you don't understand. It's not just that. You know I would do anything for you - _die _for you. But I have to know…what she has over me. Why me? What she is." _What I am_. "I need to stop her. I have to...for both our sakes." Sam's face was pale and drawn. His hands shook with fear and anger. Confusion. The tears had stopped but the raw emotion remained. He looked to Dean, willing him to understand, praying he wouldn't do something stupid that Sam couldn't fix.

A hundred emotions made their way through Dean's mind and body as he listened to the argument before him. He certainly understood the need for Sam to realize the power and knowledge – especially for _College Boy_ – of what the Kitsune wanted with him, but would it be too dangerous? How could Dean protect them both if Sam began thinking with his downstairs' brain? As out of character as that possibility was for Sam, it _was _still a possibility in their messed up world. In Sam's messed up head. If that happened, they would both be in deep shit.

Dean's duty had always been to protect Sammy.

_Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean, go!_

Those were his father's words. Words that he had lived by for twenty-three years. Still lived by. But things were different; although Dean wouldn't,_ couldn't_ admit it.

Sammy was now Sam; a skilled hunter and philosopher of sorts with a little _freak_ on the side. He had proven himself on many occasions. But that didn't stop the fact that there were too many supernatural things that vaulted for Sammy. Knew who he was – _what_ he was. Whatever that meant.

This Kitsune, however she had found his brother, would not keep Sam, or him, without a fight. That much, Dean could guarantee.

But to do that, the brothers needed to work together.

Dean knew that Sam needed to end this strange, painful chapter in his life, and while he didn't like the idea of letting him near this woman, he knew that he would never be able to look Sam in the face again if he didn't show him that he trusted him. Not after everything they'd been through.

He turned the keys to the ignition and hit the gear in drive. "Fine, but I'm telling you, if you two start humping each other, you're getting a fist to the face and she's getting a belly full of lead. End of story."

Sam's lips curled slightly and he nodded understanding, releasing a slight sigh and his victory.

That smile told the story, and Dean knew that he could trust Sam, needed Sam. Together, they would rid Holy Cross of their demons – both personal and professional.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The Impala rumbled through the town, passing a red brick church with a white steeple, just as Sam had seen it in the vision. His belly filled with dread as Dean turned down Sunshine Street, so appropriately named for the day, and stopped outside.

"You sure this is it, Sammy?" Dean asked as he pulled in front of the house, putting the car in park, but not turning it off. There was no point in hiding from her since she knew they were coming. Dean looked to his brother who had taken a quick intake of breath, probably at the fact that this was all playing out before him. It wasn't a dream. It was a nightmare.

Sam replied with a slight nod, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

Dean didn't waste any time at the confirmation. The engine cooled and he grabbed his Glock, starting toward the door with vigor in his step. When Sam finally approached him, Dean noted he had a small handgun and his favorite knife in his possession. _He's not fooling around_. Dean nodded to Sam as they made their way to the front door; knowing the right choice had been made to go side-by-side with the one person in the world he could trust.

It was in fate's hands now.


	5. Chapter 5

_Happy Halloween! We'll see if I can get this up here in time. If not, Happy All Saints Day!_

_Undying gratitude to Geminigrl11 and HarvestMoonChild for their fantastic beta and bouncing skills. I was doubly blessed this time around._

_Many thanks for the fantastic comments and hits on this story. You make me blush as I play in the Harlequin universe. I know, I won't be rushing off anytime soon to write a novel for them - but I did tone it down. :D_

_I don't own the boys, but damn I wish I did, but the evil Kitsune is all mine! Mwahahahahahah!_

_Thanks again!_

_:D_

_Caroline_

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

**Chapter 5**

The newly painted, bright, red door was the centerpiece of the perfect white house with dark blue shutters. The dried floral arrangement on the door was the perfect match of the patriotic colors of the home; the eucalyptus in the arrangement adding a touch of aroma to the air. It was deceptively inviting as the brothers made their way up the steps. The place had 'HOME' plastered all over it. Even the mat said 'WELCOME' with sunflowers and a barn on the strong burlap material.

_Normal_.

Dean glanced around and noted the white picket fence with the manicured shrubbery. To the right of the perfect door was the kind of birdfeeder that any ornithologist would die for. The Kitsune knew what she was doing - it was like she was making a place for Sam: everything he might want to be happy. A gilded cage for their enjoyment, _her enjoyment_, that he would consider his dream home – if normal was to be his life.

Dean didn't like this at all.

The nearest resident was half a block down. That was to their advantage. There would be no nosy neighbors spying on the brothers or hearing the shouts of terror as she took her last breath. _Little Miss Normal-Fox-Hybrid-Bitch_ was going down. Here and now. Dean took the safety off the gun with determination and stepped further towards the door.

Dean had planned on knocking, anticipating her bright and cheery face to answer right before he pummeled her with bullets, _oh if it was only that easy_, but he decided to try the doorknob first. As expected in a small town community such as this, it was unlocked. He slowly turned the knob, inching the door open and made his way, step by step into the home.

Sam followed behind at a slight distance, just to be cautious. Everything about the property was _everything_ he had ever dreamed of - minus the 2.5 children - thus unnerving him from the get-go. She had been in his head, ransacking his memories, picking and choosing the ones that would appeal to him on the most basic and visceral level. _She even got the God damn birdfeeder right! _

Sam took a deep, calculated breath knowing this would be no cake-walk. He struggled to get himself together and took another step forward.

The Kitsune had plans for him, of that he was sure, but he needed to know that, above everything, Dean was protected. It was the only reason he'd insisted on coming, instead of letting Dean handle this alone, the way he'd wanted to. That, and his morbid curiosity of what she was like in person; what they _might _have together. That part of his soul was unrelenting, even as it fought with his heart and mind against her. He knew everything about it was _wrong,_ but when he thought of her, some part of it _still _seemed _right_. But he was fighting against that feeling with everything he had in him.

_No! I have to protect Dean!_

He shook his head and brought himself back to the hunt. Back to his brother.

Sam watched as Dean slowly, cautiously, prowled his way into the house, through the red door, finding no conflict in his path. The young hunter let out a breath he'd been unconsciously holding, as he realized that this scenario was different from his previous vision.

In this version of the game, she'd catered to a completely different, far more permanent part of Sam's fantasy life; a home, a life without hunting and a college education from a prestigious institution. A law degree to assist those in need. All things that he'd been craving the past several years – with Jessica – to make his own. The Kitsune had pulled this from his inner-most desires and deep hidden dreams. And now they were laid out in front of him for the taking.

The yearning to allow this life to consume him was overpowering, yet on the same note, he felt comforted. Sam let himself believe, _made himself believe_, that because this was not how the vision happened, they might actually be alright. Sam relaxed a fraction and started toward the door with confidence.

Then he caught the whiff of vanilla – _her_ scent – and all the uncertainties came back.

Dean, already several steps into the home, turned back to see Sam faltering, unsure what had assaulted him. Confusion ran through his face as his eyes looked from place to place. Rather than push to comfort Sam, Dean kept going, hoping to end this, and that his brother would change his mind and wait outside. For both their sakes. Dean still had his doubts about whether or not Sam could handle this. The Kitsune's pull had been so strong that it had reached Sam, physically, through his dreams. Had injured him already when he hadn't done what she wanted. If Dean couldn't protect Sam when they were miles away from her, how could he when she was right in front of them?

But there was no time for further recriminations. Sam was here, and he wasn't leaving, and they were going to get this over with, once and for all.

Dean's tentative steps were soft and vigilant as his hearing became extremely sensitive; listening for any signs of the Kitsune being home and where she might be located. He heard his brother enter behind him. Sam still looked frazzled, but 'with it.' Dean knew they ultimately had to do this as a team. He turned to give directions to his little brother; pointing to himself and toward the kitchen while indicating Sam should check out the living room to his right. Dean noted that Sam looked more focused now and a wave of relief washed over him.

The silence was deafening as Dean glided down the hallway, his movements calculated and precise. He was acutely aware of everything directly around him. His Glock was held firmly in front of him, two-fisted, waiting for whatever might jump out. Ready to blow the bitch away.

Dean approached the archway to the kitchen to find a pot of stew on the stove and fresh baked bread – still warm – waiting for the occupants to come home and partake in the feast.

_Waiting for Sam_. _This bitch is psycho! She is setting up his apple pie life._

In the living room, Sam held his own gun, knowing that she was here; ready to pull the trigger to save his brother's life. Maybe his _own_ life. At this point, he was unsure what plans she had for him, just what she would do to Dean if he didn't come to meet her face to face; eye to eye. He couldn't hear her; he could _feel_ her. Could feel the pulse of her all around him, seeping into his pores, consuming his soul. And she knew it; played on it. The seduction had begun, but Sam was ready for it, even if his shaking hand said otherwise.

Sam continued to peruse the living room, seeing the bookshelves lined with volumes upon volumes of court cases, Realty Law, Criminal Law and a spattering of other reference tomes a lawyer would need in his arsenal. Sam also noted an antique roll-top desk, partially opened with a quill pen resting on its side. He shook his head, trying to erase his plans for his future with Jessica, which included all of these things. The Kitsune had picked through his dreams and fantasies with Jessica and placed herself in their place. He _had _wanted this; or thought he did. It was cruel to see it all laid out before him, waiting for him to step into it. His heartbeat picked up a few notches as he continued to survey the room for new surprises.

Dean looked around the luxurious kitchen. He searched in the various cabinets and finally the broom closet where he was slightly startled by an apron that whisked with the pull of the door, coming out at him. A smile came to his face at how easily he was distracted by the ordinary garment. Dean turned at a slight shuffle to his left, past the island in the middle of the area. He rotated, gun up, to see Sam standing in front of him. Anger welled in Dean at the stupidity of his sibling. He lowered his weapon.

"Dude, what are you doing? You're supposed to be checking out the living room," Dean scolded as he twisted his body, making his way around the island. "Did you find anything?"

"Dean? What are you _doing_?" Sam called distantly from the living room.

"Shit!"

Survival instinct took over as Dean crouched to the ground just in time to see 'Sam' morph into the Kitsune before him. With no hesitation, he aimed the gun and shot three times into her heart.

"DEAN!!" Sam came racing into the kitchen, gun raised, to see Dean on bended knee, looking frantically around. He sighed a quick relief at the safety of his brother, then perused the area. There were three very damaging bullet holes in the bright, yellow wall to the side of the refrigerator; smoke still billowing from the Glock. "What the hell?"

"She's here," Dean started, catching his breath, standing up with his gun still raised and alert. "Shapeshifting, illusionist _bitch_!" he spewed out in disgust, continuing to roam the kitchen. "She looked like you, then morphed into the blonde chick, who _was_ pretty hot. And then she wasn't really there. I ended up almost taking out the fridge."

"Kitsune have that ability to make you see things," Sam added, confirming Dean's vision of the woman, and wondering if all the law books were really there, too or just an illusion to sell this life to Sam. "I think we should stick together."

Dean nodded and looked his brother over. The hunter in him noticed the slight trickle of sweat inching its way down his face. _He's having a hard time fighting this_. The gun was still held tightly in Sam's hand, but Dean noticed a slight tremor not typical to the young hunter. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, going through a thousand scenarios in his head. He took in a deep breath, quickly releasing it. "I wasn't sure…what I would find in here," Sam said, keeping his comment vague, not wanting to let his brother know of the fear rotting his gut for his safety. They returned, together, to the living room and headed to the other side of the house.

Moving closer, the next room appeared to be some kind of den, decorated in masculine colors of deep browns and greens with hunting pictures and a deer head. The brothers exchanged a glance and stayed in cover formation – back to back - searching for any additional signs of the woman.

"Down!" Sam shouted out of the blue and both brothers hit the floor as a rain of fire emitted from somewhere above them.

Suddenly, Sam felt cold.

"Are you in my head, Sam? That's not very nice, but I guess it's only fair since I've been in yours," she tisked with a mocking tone. "Now I know why, and how, I found you. Our connection. And I _so _didn't want to be wrong." The woman appeared above them, licking her lips, floating, and dressed in a low cut blouse with painted-on pants. "Especially after our _last _encounter." She regarded Sam with a mischievous smile, feeling the energy radiate off him to meet with her own. It was invigorating for both of them, but the woman noted the steady struggle Sam had to maintain his balance; for the sake of his brother. She turned her gaze to Dean with distaste and hatred.

"And he is not _yours_ any more," she said coldly towards Dean.

Dean noted the venom in her voice as she spoke _at_ Dean, but did have to admit she was as gorgeous in her full array. She would definitely have been his type if she wasn't gunning for him and trying to steal his brother away into oblivion. "Well, I've never been one to play nice with others. Sharing is really not my thing."

The woman descended from her heavenly view, landing several feet away. She took in the moment and smiled. The Kitsune looked Dean in the eye and felt the overwhelming need to expunge him from the Earth. It was clear she needed him out of the way to continue her seductive spell on his sibling. Suddenly, her tail emerged and aimed once again at the cocky brother, firing at his torso.

Sam reacted, still seeming to anticipate her moves, by springing up and grabbing Dean from the floor. With almost no thought, Sam tossed him, keeping his hands firmly fisted in his jacket as they rolled together out of the line of fire – literally. He quickly jumped up into battle stance, leaving Dean to rise on his own. Sam created his personal barrier between Dean and the Kitsune as it became clear that her threat to kill his brother was in high gear. He stood protectively above Dean, panting from the exertion of the gymnastic move.

The woman clapped slowly at the show of grace under pressure. She stepped forward, teasingly remaining just out of Sam's reach. The woman looked like the cat that ate the canary as she observed the effort Sam was putting into shielding his brother. "A noble effort, Sam, and frankly, it makes me want you even more. Unfortunately, it appears you haven't done a very good job protecting your poor brother." Her eyes tracked to the prone, unmoving form of Dean on the floor. "Your acrobatics have done what I couldn't. I think you put him out of his misery. And mine!" She smiled at the horror that laced Sam's features and took a step forward. "Thank you."

"Dean?" Sam cried as he saw that Dean still had not moved from the tuck and roll. He bent low to him, checking his pulse, pulling back to find blood on his fingers. Sam dove back with his digits to find a small wound on the back of his head, open and flowing. "No! Dean!" Ignoring her stealthy advance, Sam tended to his brother who was definitely out for the count, now realizing he slammed him too hard into the wooden floor. He tapped lightly on his face, but received no reaction. "Dean…"

"What's wrong, Sam? You thought it would be that easy to get away? To protect him?" She laughed at his stricken face; both at her words and his unresponsive brother. "I've been around for a long time, and while you've certainly been the challenge I was hoping for..." Her hand reached to his brown locks and stroked them as he tended to his fallen brother, "you knew this would happen. We _will_ be together."

Anger filled his spirit as Sam rose to meet her, towering a head above her. Her hand slipped slowly from the top of his head and down his shoulder to his arm. Sam grabbed her wrist and started to twist it, with the rage of a madman in his eyes, wanting to break it from her body. She winced slightly, then transferred the pain to pleasure as she closed her eyes to envelop it; savor it. She drew in a deep breath and her eyes opened again with the yellow hue that Sam remembered from his vision. He dropped her wrist and stepped back, shaking his head at her overwhelming aura; trying to gain control of the out-of-whack head games she was playing with him.

Sam stepped sideways, taking her away from Dean, and trying to create some kind of barricade. _Damn these 'gifts.' What's the point of having them if I can't use them?_ He felt lightheaded at the overload of his senses; her scent consumed him, her touch ignited him, her beauty was unparalleled. Being here, with her, in the moment was much more tantalizing and dangerous than in the dream state.

Sam felt the power struggle within. The overwhelming need to protect Dean from danger did battle with the overwhelming need for this woman and the parts of him she filled with her essence. He felt her energy wrap around him like a blanket in winter. Then his heart would break through the fog of the dream and know that Dean was beside him, remembering all they had been through.

Sam grabbed his head and stumbled back from the onslaught of emotions and memories.

The struggle continued within, and Sam finally felt himself giving in to her considerable control as he ambled forward, like a child taking their first steps. He reached for her cheek and brushed it gingerly, leaving a trail of Dean's blood, still present on his fingers, along her perfect face. A snap to the reality of the situation came full-front as he reacted to the sight of the red smudge and pulled away once again. The mental tug of war was exhausting Sam and she knew it was only a matter of time before he fell completely under her spell. The woman smiled sweetly and with no effort, her face unscathed once again, creating the illusion of normalcy that she had worked so hard for. Sam blinked, wondering what was just there bothering him as he continued forward.

She grabbed at him as he came closer, feeling the outline of his broad shoulders through the jacket she was ripping from his body. He allowed the move and countered with the removal of the too small half sweater she was wearing, letting it fall silently to the ground to reveal the cleavage generously spilling over the low cut top. He stole a ravenous glance below as she pressed into him, grabbing his face and assaulting his lips with her own. She smiled as she released him and she felt his hands move up her ribcage, brushing the sides of her breasts.

"Much better in person, don't you think?"

Sam answered by bending low and grabbing under her knees, whisking her upward. He advanced to her lips and then made his way to her neck. She arched backwards at the aggression she felt, giving him a new angle to work with. Sam obliged and made his way to the couch, laying her gently on her back. _God she's so beautiful_. With his hands still underneath her figure, he pulled his arm from her knees and felt for the top of her pants, unbuckling the snap. Her hips rose as she allowed him to remove the clothing. The woman kicked the clinging item from her long legs.

She bolted up and raced for Sam's shirt because it was the easiest garment to remove in her current position. He released her and held his hands above his head as she pulled the layering t-shirt from his torso, revealing the six-pack abdomen she knew lay beneath. Her hands groped his chest as he flinched at the nails digging into his skin.

Sam pulled her onto his lap and crawled up her back looking for the snap to her bra. He felt the pressure on his waist as she unbuttoned his jeans. She moved slowly back and forth, teasing, as he continued on his own mission. His body ached with anticipation.

Her hands roamed up his back, taunting at the play, as she drank in his masculine scent, digging her face into his neck. She felt the tendrils of her power enveloping his soul; slowly making him hers_. It won't be long now._ The Kitsune smiled from pleasure and triumph as she plunged her fingers downward into his backside, alarmed at feeling a sheathed knife in the small of his back. She pulled it from its hiding place and tossed it on the couch.

A glimmer of remembrance hit Sam as the inner comfort of the weapon was removed. He stopped his motions and pulled back, shaking his head. _I was here to do something. Why…_

And then he saw Dean's boots sticking out from the living room; unmoving.

"No! Dean!" Sam pushed the woman tangled around him to the side violently and bolted to his brother's side. He felt for his pulse, which was still strong, and remembered the struggle and throwing him to the ground. "Oh Dean, I'm sorry. I couldn't…."

"NO!!" the woman screeched from the other side of the room with a blood-curdling yell. She rose from the couch, floating slightly in the air as her anger pushed her forward, furious at her mistreatment. "This is not how it's supposed to be. _He_ can't have you." The tail materialized as she shot fire once again at the brothers. Sam dove to protect Dean and got the brunt of the attack on his bare skin, screaming in anguish, arching his back, as he felt the flames lick his sweat-covered skin. Gasping, he pushed Dean as far from him as he could, hoping to stave off her newest attack.

Sam's skin boiled as the fire ate at the flesh on his back. He stumbled toward her to keep the distance from his brother. The hunter straightened himself as much as he dared and watched the Kitsune land on the floor. "No!" he managed through a litany of pain and anger. "You are evil. You don't care what you do to anyone else. You only care about yourself - _your _needs." He lunged at her, knocking her to the ground, startled. "I could never be with someone like you," he concluded, pinning her to the ground.

The Kitsune's eyes glowed bright yellow as her fury consumed her. She was on her back once again with Sam on top of her, but not the way she had planned. She had premeditated and researched; carefully selected each strong image from his mind. Found his deepest desires and needs, set up the home to his liking. For him. And _this_ was how she was repaid?

She would hurt him as much as he hurt her.

With new direction and determination, her arm came from beneath her and she smiled into Sam's grief-stricken face over the concern for his brother. The barrage of conflicting emotions exuding from him was almost amusing to watch as he sifted through one after another. Pain, guilt, intrigue, lust, hatred. Love. For _him._ The brother she should have killed when she had the opportunity. She read them all as they happened and knew she had no other choice. She had lost him – for good.

Sam felt a sharp pain on the side of his ribs and a coppery smell instantly filled the air. He saw the hatred come from the Kitsune's eyes and her body jerk as the feeling struck, twisting. He knew he was in trouble.

Sam's lungs gasped as understanding became prevalent. He pulled himself carefully from her body and fell heavily to the side of her. Looking to his left, he saw his own knife sticking out of him, fully embedded deep into what he could only guess was his lung. Sam's eyes began to glass over as the tight skin of the burn reminded Sam of its presence and did its own aggrieved duet with the knife wound.

The Kitsune righted herself and crawled to him, hovering above.

"I told you, if I can't have you, no one will."

She touched the side of his face with a look that had sorrow and anger wrapped up together. She had truly loved this man; connected with him. Made the world that he wanted more than anything, and he threw it in her face for his family. The Kitsune started away from him, but decided she was not quite done with Sam Winchester.

Her hand went to his side and touched the blood that leaked slowly from his body. Sam grimaced at the roughness of the touch. He was finding it almost impossible to draw a full breath. She pressed around as her fingers coated themselves. The crimson reached her lips as she sucked it from her fingers, savoring it for one last time before moving on to another search for her beloved. She leaned in, with a final curse for his remaining moments, if he lasted that long.

"I bind you to that which becomes a part of you."

The Kitsune made to stand when suddenly Sam pulled the knife from his side, raising it as high as his body would allow him, and plunged it into her hip with a might he didn't think he would still have. She looked down in terror, realizing what he had done. She stumbled in shock and rose, keeping her distance from the man who would be her everything.

"Same goes for you, bitch!"

The woman's cries could be heard as she dragged her way into the kitchen and finally out the door.

Sam's eyes squinted against the onslaught of pain to his side, and the burns on his back, knowing his immediate concerns were the oozing from his left side and the fact that oxygen was becoming a rare and precious commodity. He was panting, wheezing, struggling to get any kind of air into lungs that weren't really cooperating anymore. The articles of clothing were strewn on the floor, and a much further distance away then his brother. He crawled to Dean, who still lay motionless on the ground, hoping he would wake up and get them the help they needed.

Sam jostled his brother to no avail, deciding to feel in his pockets for any random cloth or article of clothing to stop the cascading blitz of blood. Sam thought he heard him stir for a moment, but decided it was wishful thinking that Dean would put on his red cape and save him this time.

His trail of blood from a few feet away was thick and long since removing the knife. _Probably not the smartest of idea._ Sam could feel himself losing the battle and felt guilt for leaving his brother in such a lurch. He hadn't even killed the bad guy. _Death by almost-sex. Dean'd love that._ Sam snorted to himself at the comment, realizing that was a bad idea.

A chill overtook Sam as he looked around at his shirts scattered along the floor. His bare chest was covered in blood as he watched the knife wound in fascination. Sam noticed it didn't even hurt anymore. It pumped out rockets of crimson in accordance with his heartbeat. He placed his hand once again on the spot, only to have it slip off and hit the floor.

Sam's vision was fading. He looked to Dean and tears came to his eyes. _He's done so much for me. _Sam placed his right hand to Dean's chest and fisted his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant this…" but the words were lost as his battle to stay conscious and alive succumbed to the peace of the darkness calling to him.

_You're my brother, and I'd die for you._ Those words came back swirling through Sam's brain as a slight smile passed on his lips. Now that he knew Dean was safe - from her - he accepted the hand that fate had dealt him.

With a last hitch in his breathing, Sam released the fist on his brother's shirt and careened back around; keeling over and landing on Dean's hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Thanksgiving everyone!** Even those of you that aren't in the U.S. I hope you enjoy your day and have yummy food as well! I'm just grateful for a day off and football! And Supernatural, although it's a repeat...that Kripke!

Apologies for the delay. I think that it is just inevitable that I cannot keep up with the young whiper-snappers on this site. I'm too anal about what I'm posting and it makes me want to rewrite 50 times. But, I am especially grateful to Geminigrl11, once again and always, for the assistance with the chapter. She is so giving of herself, to so many people. She is a blessing. Also to Lemmypie for her great cheerleading and brainstorming skills! And apples and peanut butter...

I am also hoping to get another chapter up of Mother's Love - my **Death-Defying Act**, erm, _story_ of why Sam was chosen by the demon, and how. It takes place during CSPWDT. Call it a plot bunny gone awry. I wanted to know what the secret was SO BAD that I made up my own reason! I can't believe I'm pimping - wow:D

In any case, thanks, as always, to all who are reading - whether you review or not. Would love to hear from you, but well, things happen, right? I understand goes off quietly and cries in the corner

:D

Caroline

**-o-o-o-o-o-o-**

**Chapter 6**

Dean knew something was wrong. He wasn't sure where the feeling came from, but something was certainly amiss. Then he felt the constant jackhammer working overtime on his skull. He was not amused.

He twisted his head, letting out a small groan, and tried to find a more comfortable position, only to discover there wasn't one. Everything hurt. He opened his eyes warily and found two of everything on the ceiling. _Concussion, great_! Dean reached his hand to his forehead to find it was underneath something heavy. Still confused by his position and pain, he took a deep breath to try and clear his head. As reality came more into his grasp, he looked at the mass next to him.

"Sammy?" he tried weakly, looking to illicit a reaction from the mop of hair that was cupped in his hand. Dean's heart beat faster as more time passed and his brother remained unresponsive. He grabbed the long strands hard in his fingers and clenched his fist, waiting for a 'Geek Boy' whine and a warning to knock it off. Silence.

_Not good._

Dean clicked into Big Brother Mode and propped himself on his right elbow, scooting himself along the floor to be parallel to his brother. He ignored the shooting pain in his head and the wetness on the side of his face. Blinking several times to fully come into the moment, he scanned over the unconscious, _shirtless _brother lying next to him. Dean furrowed his brow and tried to put the pieces together in his Swiss cheese mind. A smudge on his T-shirt gained his attention; looking at it briefly to note it was a bloody print of what looked like Sam's fist. And he felt a wet, stickiness on his arm.

Then it all came back to him in a wave of panic.

"Shit! Sammy!" Suddenly Dean was completely awake and leaning over his little brother.

In this new horror of a reality, the first thing Dean truly noticed was all the blood – too much blood. _Nononononono._ He gently removed his trapped hand and lowered Sam's head to the floor. His shaky digits made their way to Sam's neck, afraid what he would find. He waited a moment, holding his breath, finally finding a pulse. Weak and erratic.

Dean continued the surveillance as he painfully made his way around his brother to see the lake of crimson forming underneath him. Deducing that the injury was on Sam's left side, he ascertained that somehow Sam had managed to trap his left arm under the wound, preventing some of the flow from escaping him.

With his head pounding unmercifully and pain ricocheting throughout his entire body, Dean leaned low over the stillness that was his brother, shocked to see what looked like a smile on Sam's face.

Resignation. Relief.

Anger and guilt swelled in him as he realized exactly what it meant. Sam, with whatever strength he'd had left, had crawled to Dean to make sure he was alright. Tried to wake him, and failed. But he'd known that Dean would make it, and as long as his brother would survive Sam's mistake, Sam could die in peace.

Dean brushed Sam's cool cheek gingerly as a tear hit the floor. Then anger erupted from his core.

_No! It's not gonna end like this! I didn't want him to come. I knew it wasn't safe. I should have put my foot down or knocked him out myself. Damn it, Sammy!_

His quick, internal berating ceased as he turned back to Sam. Desperate to try and stop any more of his brother's essence from leaving his body, and knowing there was nothing he could do, Dean raced to find his cell phone and quickly dialed 9-11 for service.

Dean was surprised that he remembered the address, especially in the unknown state of shock he could feel himself going into.

"My brother… he's… lost a lot of blood. I don't know if he has that long."

The other end of the call was silent for a moment. Obviously in a small town like this, they were not used to this kind of ordeal. They told him to keep the line open, tried to keep talking to him, to get him to answer questions as he waited. But their voices were muffled by a haze of growing panic.

Dean grabbed Sam's bare shoulder, looking for additional clues to help his sibling. Sam's body was cold – too cold. Nearing the end. The blood he'd lost had drawn all the warmth away from him as well. Panicking, Dean painfully pulled his jacket from around his own shoulders and draped it over Sam. It wasn't much, but it was all he had to offer.

Dean wanted to turn Sam over to look at the damage, but he was praying the pressure of Sam's weight on the wound would continue to slow the blood flow.

On the five minute mark, two paramedics burst onto the scene. The first image that greeted them was the grief-stricken young man, brushing the matted hair from his sibling's ashen forehead, speaking softly to him words they could not hear. One of the medics stopped briefly at the sight of the blood pooling around the duo. Her partner rushed past her and ran to Sam's side, knowing he was the priority, and quickly spurred into action at the trauma before him.

"Sir?" the man said, addressing Dean, "can you tell me your name?"

Dean's heavy eyes pulled upward as he looked to the man, relief in his eyes that they were here. _Please help him_.

"De.." he started and gave a shallow cough. "Dean."

"Dean, I'm Justin. Can you tell me what happened here?" the medic asked in the most soothing tone he could muster. He grabbed Sam's wrist and checked his pulse, all the while looking at Dean, waiting for some sort of answer.

Around them, a flurry of additional med-techs made it to the scene. They noted the odd angle of Sam on the floor and realized that the injury was on his side. Keeping that in mind, they used Sam's right arm to check vitals; removing the leather jacket and putting it to the side. They got a line into his right arm for the IV to assist with the blood loss and placed the oxygen mask over his mouth. The blood pressure cuff slipped easily around his upper arm as they wrapped the Velcro tightly to check the reading. With the situation under control, Justin left Sam's side and made his way closer to Dean, knowing the man had wounds of his own that needed attending.

The other paramedics hovered around Sam's still form, assessing their next move regarding the obvious wound from Sam's floor-bound side. They made the same assumption that Dean had about the pressure on the wound and waited until they had the proper equipment to try to venture a look.

Justin carefully approached Dean, who was overwhelmed by the situation. Dean had managed to back himself clear of the commotion to let the medics do their job. The medic sat next to the blood-soaked man, looking him over with a visual evaluation. The back of his neck had its own stream of blood still flowing from it, certainly from a head wound. Dean also seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing – either from broken ribs, or pre-hyperventilation as he took in the situation around him. Justin traced the blood source, and noted a sizable pool of blood, a foot or so back from the young man before him. He motioned for someone to assist.

The young medic could see Dean's face was pale and constricted, twisted in concern for his brother; not caring about his own fragile, physical state. There was also a protective glare there, as if he were waiting for someone to do something wrong so he could attack. The feral look in his eyes would scare the weakest of hearts, but in the same vein, the love exuded from him like nothing he had ever seen.

"Dean?" Justin tried again, carefully, hoping to gain his attention away from the scene unfolding just inches from him.

Slowly, Dean looked at the man before him. He still kept his vigilant eye on his brother, watching. Waiting. "We were… visiting an old friend. This man came racing in and…" And then he couldn't go on. Dean began to tremble at the sight before him, as pieces of his brother were faded away. He had failed Sam. The lies that normally spilled so easily from his lips were caught behind a dam of other emotions. He watched, noting the minutiae around him in a fog; all coming back to one thing.

_Sam. _

Sam looked pale, Sam looked weak, Sam was in a pool of blood, Sam had no shirt on, Sam was having trouble breathing; couldn't breathe. Sam was missing his knife. Sam was in deep shit.

And Dean didn't know how to fix it.

More sirens wailed outside as more people piled into the room, talking loudly and traipsing through the area disconcertedly. Dean looked up through his glassy haze, trying to focus on what was going on. The world was dull about him.

Dean heard the techs spouting off Sam's stats. They were clearly surprised Sam was still alive with the amount of blood splayed on the floor. Dean knew the situation was grim as more and more people crowded around his little brother.

Poking. Prodding. Cutting. Taping.

They sounded like the adults in the _Peanuts_ cartoon; they became overwhelming white noise as the world around Dean spun and he started to pitch forward.

Justin looped his arms around him to pull Dean from his nose dive. "Easy. We'll get you all fixed up, and your brother too. Jen will take good care of him," Justin said, still very calm and collected, indicating to his partner. He could see the distress cemented in Dean's eyes and finally felt comfortable enough to start a physical exam. He grabbed the man before him and checked his pupils for dilation. "Concussion here, probably going into shock," Justin called to the nearest technician on the scene for assistance.

Dean felt the man grope at the back of his head, knowing he would discover the point of impact with the floor. The pressure was uncomfortable but Dean was numb; he was too busy watching all the people work on Sam's lifeless body. He never noticed the IV go into his arm.

_Sammy_.

Finally comfortable enough that they had the right personnel and equipment to look at the wound, the medics turned Sam slowly to his back. There was a slight gurgling sound from his lips, prompting Jen to remove the oxygen mask and check Sam's airway. Within seconds, she skillfully slid a tube down Sam's throat to help him breathe, and placed him at a slightly elevated angle. The remaining paramedics attended to the wound, quickly cleaning and probing the area before applying pressure to stop the viscous flow of crimson.

Dean watched as they intubated his brother and examined the gaping hole caused by Sam's knife. It continued to drip blood like a leaky faucet. They persisted with their furious work on Sam, and Dean saw less and less of his brother.

Dean tensed and moved toward Sam, hoping for a glimpse. Praying they were making headway. He kicked into protection mode, seemingly coming back around from his haze, struggling to get to his sibling.

"Sammy…"

"Is that his name?" Jen called, hearing the comment. She turned back to her patient and started to call to him. "Sammy? Can you hear me?" Jen lightly tapped his face, hoping for some kind of response.

"Sam. It's Sam. He doesn't like Sammy…" Dean said absently, and for no particular reason other than it seemed the right thing to do. The _only_ thing he could do as he sat helplessly next to his baby brother; watching Sam's spirit drain from his body. He could at least prevent his brother's anger at the nickname.

Dean made his way a little closer and was able to see Sam's pallid complexion. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he peered at him. Sam looked so young and lost; Dean barely recognized him. All he wanted to do was touch him; grab his hand and squeeze, to let Sam know he was there, beside him. Always.

_Damn it Sammy, what were you thinking_? _You hold on_. _Don't you dare let her get the best of you…_

Justin was still concentrating on Dean's wounds, trying his best to clean the back of Dean's head and checking wherever else he might be injured. He gently placed a hand on Dean's shoulder to stop the concerned brother from doing additional harm to himself. Another tech was finishing up with Dean and checking his vitals.

'Dean. You have to let them do their job," Justin said with his calm demeanor. He placed himself in Dean's line of vision, careful not to block his view, but wanting him to pay attention to his words. "They are trained to take care of situations like this. Don't worry."

_No one is trained to take care of this…_

They continued to apply pressure to Sam's side solicitously; taping it once, then twice, still unable to stop the bleeding.

"BP is 82/58. We need to get him to Mercy before he drops further. He won't make it to the Dubuque branch," the female EMT spouted, looking to the additional support she had with her. Justin nodded softly, trying to spare Dean additional distress by silently cutting off her words with a glance. Jen understood.

A gurney arrived in the trashed home from the fleet of ambulances outside.

"Let's bring him to Dyersville, stabilize him and then they can make the call if they want to take him to Dubuque. He needs treatment right away," announced an older med tech who seemed in charge, making the call. He motioned for the gurney to approach and looked to Dean, determining if he needed one as well.

They dropped the bed to the floor and the paramedics took up their positions to assist the lanky man to the cart. The remaining crew slid Sam's tall frame to the gurney, careful to keep pressure on the still active wound, and secured him in place. They lifted the legs of the device and made sure to grab all the equipment needed. Before they rolled off, they switched the IV bag, replenishing the saline liquid to assist with the traumatic blood loss.

Justin returned his gaze to Dean who was transfixed on his brother being rolled from the scene. "You're not going to fight me about the gurney, are you, Dean? I can't let you walk out of here on your own, you know."

Dean barely heard him, forgetting his own concussion and blood loss, noticing the IV for the first time. All that mattered was Sam. He knew that the medics were doing everything they could to help his brother. _Save _his brother. He knew how low the blood pressure was. Dean knew the situation was dire.

"Dean?"

The hunter, still sitting on the floor, looked to the side of him, seeing all the blood – Sammy's blood – pooled on the floor like a spilled drink. It was different when Sam was next to him, but now, to see how much he had actually lost…

Two medics returned to the scene, surveying the situation and checking for anything they may have left behind. They rolled the gurney toward Dean, looking for direction from Justin who held them up a moment.

"Dean? If you want to go with Sam in the ambulance, you need to come with me right now. We have to put you on the gurney. Do you hear me?" Justin leaned back toward Dean, hoping he could use the threat to get the man to cooperate with him.

Dean looked blankly at Justin, tears in his eyes. He nodded slightly, succumbing to the inevitable ride. The two men assisted him to his feet and sat him gently on the gurney, supporting him as they lay him down. The last part was to strap him in so he wouldn't go flailing all over the place on the ride to the hospital. The job was quick and they ushered him from the scene.

The blood on the floor taunted him as Dean could not tear his eyes away. Each drop was another moment in his life that he had failed his brother. Guilt consumed him and he felt bile rise in his throat.

Then he heard it; soft and sweet.

_This is not your fault Dean. **I** made the choice to come. I **had** to come. This is **not** your fault. Please, Dean, you have to know that._

"Sammy?" Dean cried aloud, swearing he had just heard his brother's voice.

Justin looked to his colleagues knowing that the young man before him was not calling, but questioning. Dean had thought he heard his brother. The medic had seen it many times before, especially when the life force of another human being was so close to being extinguished. He wasn't sure whether he believed it or not, but in any case, Justin knew it wasn't a good sign.

"He's in the ambulance, Dean. We'll be there shortly. Don't worry,"

Dean could see what the man thought, but he didn't care. Deep down, he knew that Sammy had just spoken to him; and that scared him more than anything. That meant something was terribly wrong. He also knew that s_he_ had done this. _She_ had called Sam – _made_ him come. Sam had tried to resist, but he hadn't been able to. And Dean had let it happen, even though every instinct in his body told him not to let Sam come on this hunt. Now his brother was fighting for his life - because Dean did not do his job.

_Watch out for Sammy_.

Dean knew he should have put his foot down; should have insisted Sam stay behind. She was too powerful, and now his brother was on the brink of death.

_I failed him_.

The paramedics pushed him out the door to the waiting ambulance, loading him inside. Next to his dying brother. Justin and Jen entered the cab as well and stayed with the Winchesters; feeling a special bond to them. As Justin pulled the door closed, he saw the Impala parked on the street, making a mental note.

The sirens blared and the ambulance made its way screaming to the Dyersville hospital.

Sam had not gained consciousness; had not moved. His face seemed to drain of color with each moment that passed.

Dean took notice.

In fact, he looked at everything around him. Sam's BP monitor was now at 79/55 and his heartbeat had slowed. The tube was doing the breathing for him. The wound seemed to have stopped bleeding, but Dean feared it was simply because there was barely any blood left in his little brother.

Seeing the distress on Dean's face, Justin ventured in conversation to divert his thoughts. "Hey, Dean, is that car yours? The Impala? It's a beauty of a car."

Dean did not take his eyes from his brother, but the mention of the Impala brought him around, briefly.

"Yeah."

"Those vintage cars, man, they are the best. What a muscle car. How long have you had it?" Justin continued this tactic to distract and calm Dean as his colleagues continued their assessment of Sam.

"Dad gave it to me. We grew up with it," Dean said absently, answering as if on automatic pilot. Sam's blood pressure dropped another two points.

"Well, it's in great condition. You must really baby her for as good as she looks," Justin added, stroking Dean's ego. "I'm a bit of a gear head myself. I have a red '65 Mustang. It's the love of my life."

Dean actually stopped to look at the paramedic. It took everything he had not to tell him how he really felt.

_Pussy._

"Great. Maybe when this is all over we can share notes on car maintenance," Dean replied with sarcasm dripping from his tone. _A _Mustang_? Please!_

Justin didn't seem to notice, feeling some of the tension release from the young man. "That'd be great!"

Then Dean's world came crashing down around him as the alarms went off next to him.

"He just flatlined! Shit! Start compressions." Jen and Justin flew to his side and began CPR, watching the monitors for any signs of improvement. "Damn it! Get the paddles! How far to the hospital?"

"Sammy!! No!" Dean could not move from the restraints on the gurney. "Let me up! I have to see my brother!"

"Five minutes," called the driver.

"Clear!"

Sam's body lurched forward as the paddles shocked his system, trying to pull him away from the impending darkness.

"Sammy! Justin, please let me up. Please!" Dean's hands were too unsteady to undo the straps without assistance. "Sammy!"

But his pleas were ignored as their full attention was attuned to Sam, who lay motionless as the paramedics tried to bring him back to life.

-o-o-o-o-o-

AN: Faye, that intubating was all for you:D


	7. Chapter 7

Please! No one pass out! I know, two updates in a week! I must be sick! (By the way, if you have a moment, I'd love your opinion on 'Mother's Love' (my other update). I've been playing with my theories of Sam's 'gift,' intertwined with the current cannon of the show. We'll see what happens).

So, this is the second to last chapter of this story, but it will be followed by the "resolution" in 'That Which Becomes a Part of You;' the story I had originally set out to write when I began this craziness. Time is just a difficult thing to find these days, so I humbly apologize for making you wait. I am eternally grateful to those of you that constantly poke and prod at me to keep going. And I promise, I'll update 'Cahokia' as well.

This story would not be possible without the unending love and support from Geminigrl11 who has been an amazing inspiration. I also must thank MaddieM who not only found time out of her busy schedule to add her $.02 (actually it was more like $10.45) to this story, but actually housed me as I wrote part of it. Still don't know how she put up with me for a week, but I'll never be able to properly thank her for that.

Thank you all for your support, and remember GO BEARS!!!!!

:D

Caroline

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Chapter 7**

"Shit! His lung just collapsed," called Justin to the driver in a hurried tone. "Better call it in, Jeff, he's going to have to go right into surgery once he's stabilized." The paramedic continued his evaluation of the situation, hitting Sam with another barrage of voltage.

Beside Justin, Jen continued to monitor Sam's heart, waiting for a spark of life to grace the screen.

Never had she been witness to something so heinous as the torture these two men had endured – especially Sam. She was a trained paramedic; trained to save lives. But when she entered the house, seeing all the blood, it took her breath away. Literally. Had her inaction cost Sam his life?

Jen swore to herself that she would do everything in her power to help save this man; and to restore his brother's confidence in her.

She sighed as the line continued its horizontal taunting. Sam certainly wasn't making this easy. But she wasn't about to give up on him. Not again.

"Breathe, damn it!" Jen whispered, praying silently.

Dean was in agony.

Now fully alert, refusing to let the concussion get the best of him, he watched as his baby brother lay there, helpless to do anything for him. His focus was never daunted as the shrill of the monitor cut to his core. Instinctively, he reached once again for Sam, only to be restrained by the manacles around him. Pain pushed at his being; his ribs screamed as the straps tore into his body. He desperately pulled, trying to free himself as he watched Sam arc in response to the paddles.

Watched as Sam's life slipped away.

All because Dean hadn't put his foot down and left his brother's ass in the last town like he wanted to. Didn't follow his instincts, when everything about this cried out to keep Sam as far away from Holy Cross as possible. And from _her._

_Watch out for Sammy…_

"Sammy, don't you dare leave me!" Dean screamed towards Sam, barely able to keep his voice from cracking. Liquid streams fell down his face as the guilt of the scenario – the sheer terror of it – enveloped him. He took a shallow breath to continue his tirade as fire erupted in his belly. "You hear me? I will kick your ass if you leave me again!"

_Beep. Beep_.

"We've got him! Holy shit!" cried Jen in disbelief, looking to Dean as if he were a miracle worker. Their eyes met briefly as she felt his relief wash over her. She could feel Dean's gratitude; all other mistakes were cast aside. The young paramedic let go a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Clicking back to the severity of the situation, Jen wanted to continue the fight, the unspoken promise she'd made to Dean, for Sam. She looked back at the monitor and grabbed her stethoscope, diving to his chest for additional clues. "BP's 80/58, but I hear fluid," Jen announced looking at Justin who was replacing the paddles. "The knife must have punctured his lung. We may have a hemopneumothorax."

Justin finally stole a glance at Dean, who held fear in his features at the term. He gave Dean a reassuring nod. "It means there might be blood and air in the chest cavity. Maybe his lung too. Jen, pull the tube, we don't want to make it worse," he called to his right as she draped the stethoscope over her shoulder, nodding in compliance. Justin returned his attention to Dean. "We can do a quick release of the air with a syringe when we get to the hospital, but it's too dangerous to try it while we're flying down the highway." The paramedic explained, trying to keep the worried brother in the medical loop. "They'll have to do surgery to repair Sam's lung, but they can't do it at Dyersville. He'll need to be stabilized and then transferred to Dubuque."

Dean's head swam with information, but the one thing that rang true was the possibility of not being around his brother. "I have to go with him. When you move him," he stated with authority in his voice. "I need to be with him."

Justin nodded, understanding the special bond the brothers had. He knew that moving Dean again with his head wound was probably not the best idea, but he knew it had to be done; for both their sakes.

Behind Justin, Dean saw Jen preparing Sam for the extraction of the tube. She placed her hand gently on his neck, and soothed the muscles. Firmly, she grasped the plastic and in one yank, pulled it out. The end appeared, bloodied and wet as she quickly hid the sight from Dean, trying to spare him any additional trauma.

Sam had little reaction to its removal as his oxygen level depleted. The monitor beeped again, but the chimes were erratic. Blood dripped from his lips as the crimson started to make its way up his throat. His head lolled to the side as the last of his energy was exhausted.

Dean's heart dropped as he watched his brother's lifeless body. The droplets of blood on Sam's lips and the red of the end of the tube did not escape his notice. Dean felt nausea encroaching him and reached for Justin, who saw him pale. He quickly grabbed a bucket and loosened the top strap for Dean who vomited, almost on cue. He screamed in agony, beads of sweat mixed with tears as they streamed down his face. Dean felt like shards of glass were jetting into him from the head wound, not to mention the additional pressure on his injured ribs.

Justin looked on in sympathy, knowing that his patient was dealing with too many things at once. The nausea was normal for a concussed individual, but the added strain of watching the extubation of his brother had sent him over the edge. He handed Dean a cloth to wipe his mouth, which he took gratefully, as he slowly eased Dean back to the lying position, certain the spell had passed.

Dean stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, trying to catch his breath. Taking in everything around him. He managed a slow lungful of air, willing himself to calm down. He knew the care that Jen and Justin had been administering to Sam was remarkable, but for the first time, Dean began to realize that he might actually lose his brother.

Lose him to the _fucking_ Kitsune.

In reality, he'd lost him from the moment she'd found him. There seemed no escape for Sam. No happy ending.

_I **had** to come. This is **not** your fault. Please, Dean, you have to know that. _The words echoed in Dean's mind.

_Sammy…_

Dean snapped from his reverie, clearing his mind of negativity, even though his vision was a tad blurry. The empty pit in his stomach lurched again but he kept it at bay. He needed to know what was going on. How to help his brother. Dean steadied his breath, feeling the last of the sweat drying on his forehead. "Is he… will he make it?" he croaked out, coughing and instantly regretting it.

The paramedic sighed loudly, looking back at the young man on the other bed, trying to offer some form of comfort, but knowing not much would be found. He grabbed a small glass of water and offered it to Dean, who took it greedily.

"Honestly, Dean, I don't know. Whatever happened to you two back there, the guy wasn't fooling around." Justin looked at the monitor and the oxygen levels, relieved as he saw Jen following every sign, and trying to clean up her patient. "Sam's lost a lot of blood, so that's our first priority when we get to Dyersville. We just have to take it one step at a time."

Justin watched Dean's jaw tighten at the diagnosis; his eyes becoming glassy as he fought back the impending tears. Justin touched his arm and smiled. "If it helps, I am thoroughly convinced that your yelling brought Sam back. I've seen it time after time."

"Damn right it did," replied Dean letting a tear drop down his cheek. "He knows better than to go dying on me. I'll kick his ass."

Justin snorted a reply. "I'm sure you would." He looked up as he saw the hospital approaching and rose for the arrival. "Just keep still. I don't want you aggravating those wounds any more than you already have." Justin could see that Dean was having none of it and gently squeezed his arm again, winning a glance upward from Dean. "We'll get you and your brother taken care of, okay?"

The ambulance pulled into the bay, sirens blaring. The back doors were thrust open as the medics rushed to get Sam out of the unit. They rambled stats and pulled Sam towards the looming hospital. Several doctors were now involved in the arrival of their newest patient. One barked out questions regarding his lung; another questioned the blood loss and wanted immediate answers regarding his blood type.

The flurry of activity was swift. It was clear they were not set up to handle the severity of Sam's case and they wanted to make sure they could at least stabilize him and get him back on his way to better care.

Dean was then removed and a few medical personnel approached him, poking and prodding. Justin gave a quick overview of Dean's condition to his now attending physician. The older Winchester was oblivious to it all as he used every ounce of his strength to watch as his brother headed off in another direction.

Then panic shrouded him as he struggled to gain his freedom, realizing that his proximity to his brother was being threatened. That he wouldn't be able to protect him.

"Sammy! Sam!" Dean reached an arm towards his brother as they rushed him to triage, placing a mask on Sam's face to give him extra oxygen. The monitors were pushed hurriedly along with him so they could watch his progress as they got close to the ER. Then the doors slammed shut and Dean continued to scream, his face twisted in agony. "No! That's my brother. Please. He's my…"

"He's in the best available care, Dean. You need to let them do their job," Justin soothed, trying to get Dean to stop fighting the nurses. He knew that Dean was in pain, both physically and mentally, but aggravating his injuries would do him no good. "And _you _need to calm down. You won't do Sam any good if you hurt yourself further." Justin already knew what card to play to cut to the chase.

But the agitation continued as Dean still struggled to gain his freedom. "No! Please. I have to go with him. He's my brother, my responsibility." Dean's eyes filled with tears as he pleaded with the young paramedic, starting to release the second strap on the gurney. "Please." Determined to get to his brother, Dean continued to loosen the belt and began to swing his leg over the side, aiming for the direction they had taken Sam.

Dean was desperate; ignoring the dizziness and throbbing in his head. Oblivious to the stabbing of his ribs into his own lungs. None of it mattered as he fought the horde of people now surrounding him. Their voices rose as they tried to calm the irrational man before them. Justin took the lead, trying to quiet him down and get him back to the gurney.

Dean's focus was on one thing only - Sam - so he never saw the nurse approach from behind. In an instant, she shot Dean with a controlled dose of morphine into his IV, knowing this small amount would relieve his pain and make him more docile without aggravating his concussion further.

Dean's struggles were suddenly sluggish, and he looked to his arm, following the port back to the IV bag. The nurse capped the needle and slowly stepped back from the gurney. Dean felt the warmth enter his bloodstream too late as he regarded the mass of medical personnel around him, finally landing his gaze on Justin. His eyes widened in something akin to fear.

Fear of not being able to help Sam.

"No. Please. I'm…"

The fogginess overtook Dean. The world spun as the pain in his throbbing head and chest ceased; along with his ability to breath. His eyes settled on Justin's as he felt his throat close, trying to speak, but knowing it was no use. A quick release of air was all he could manage.

_Morphine. I guess I should have told them I'm allergic…No, Sammy…_

Justin could see right away that they had made a mistake as he watched Dean's eyes roll back into his head. "Shit! He's allergic. Damn it! Christy, get an EpiPen now! Grab the antihistamine too, just in case. He's going into anaphylactic shock."

The nurse ran off in another direction, understanding the severity of the situation. Christy cursed herself for not asking him if he was allergic, but there was simply no time. She stumbled into the drug closet and grabbed the requested supplies and some steroids in case things got really bad. Better to be safe than sorry.

_Guess I should have thought of that in the first place._

When Christy arrived back at the scene, Justin was trying to push a tube he had scavenged from the ambulance quickly down Dean's throat before it was too late. He wasn't having any luck as he slowly watched Dean's lips turn a sickening shade of blue. The swelling was blocking Dean's airway and they were running out of time. Christy grabbed the Epi quickly and fisted it, injecting it immediately into Dean's thigh. She held the pen for fifteen seconds; enough time to know that the medicine was making its way into his bloodstream.

They watched and waited.

Color slowly came back to the man's features and the swelling began to cease slightly. Justin, not taking any chances, inserted the tube as their back-up plan. He was confident that they caught it in time, but the luck of these two brothers was not something he was willing to play with. The medical team heaved a collective sigh and wheeled the incapacitated man to the nearest room to check him for further damage.

-o-o-o-o-o

And a quick shout out to my homies at the Sam board! Limp-Sam dot com. You guys rock!


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